


do you feel like a young god?

by mc_claren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Harry Styles, F/M, Falling In Love, Gryffindor!Harry, Gryffindor!Niall, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter References, Hufflepuff!Liam, M/M, Slow Burn, Slytherin!Louis, Slytherin!Zayn, Top Zayn Malik, Zarry Endgame, moody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25769920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mc_claren/pseuds/mc_claren
Summary: Niall's breath hitches, his blue irises stark in the light of the hallway.He swallows, “It’s Zayn Malik.”Harry exhales a sigh of relief, “Yeah, so?” He really thought Niall had something much more serious to say than the lad’s name. It’s good that he recognizes the guy.“What do you mean, ’yeah, so?’ It’s Zayn Malik. We shouldn’t- Harry, we shouldn’t be caught with him,” Niall tells him.“Don’t be insane, we helped him. What’s the worst that could happen?”Or a Harry Potter AU of Zayn, the arrogant, perceived bad boy of Slytherin who finds his world clashing with Gryffindor Harry Styles.
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne/Harry Styles, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 86
Kudos: 201





	1. But you're human tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a fic in so, so many years. I apologize in advance if I didn't write well. Also, I'm not the biggest Potterhead but I tried to get the details right. My search history now contains 'how drunk can butterbeer make you?' so, that explains it. (:  
> I wrote this fic because it's cloudy and foggy and I recently read and watched Harry Potter which gave put me in a 'Slytherin' type of dark mood. 
> 
> Note: The 'Trace' doesn't work here, students can cast spells as they like. Also their ages are different. I didn't want to write a fic about the characters being too young. So, Zayn and Harry are in 5th year and for the sake of this fic, they're 18.  
> I've mostly stuck to the Harry Potter AU but made a few minor changes for the fic. 
> 
> Also, listen to the song "Young God" by Halsey. The entire fic uses its vibe, even the title and the chapter names. Maybe it'll help you connect with the fic more. It's a great song, such a Slytherin song, I feel. So, please, please do listen to it.
> 
> Thank you. (:

Lightning lit the night skies in brilliant streaks, sheets of rain smashing against any surface they came in contact with. It was supposed to be a good idea; going off to Hogsmeade, drinking butterbeer till late at night at the Three Broomsticks, just to celebrate their fourth year exams finally ending.

It had been a particularly long week- at least for Harry who is not only responsible for his passing the exams but also Niall’s. Harry’s lost track of how many times they’ve been up at night, revising till the ungodly hours and how many times Niall has fallen asleep at breakfast. To going over the ingredients of specific Potions to learning Transfiguration with Liam. To say the least, it has been exhausting. Finally, it’s done now and he doesn’t know what he’s more grateful for- for carrying both of them through the week or actually maintaining his sanity throughout the week.

Perhaps, both. Or so he thinks when he’s running with Niall, trying to rush into the Castle and away from this wet weather which is duly accompanied with the cold. As their shoes pound heavily across the ground, mud splashes up their legs. _Brilliant, just brilliant._

“Can’t seem to catch a fuckin’ break, can ya?” Niall quips, his blonde hair dripping wet as they both dart their way past trees and bushes.

“It was your idea. We could’ve just stayed in, “Harry gets out and his pace quickens until steps become leaps. The wind whips his curls back from his face. He can feel his heart thudding in his chest which matches the sound of the thunder when another lightning strikes.

“And do what? Practice Quidditch with Liam? No, thanks,” Niall retorts and uses his cloak to shield himself from the rain by raising it over his head. The ground blurs below them. They continue running for what seemed like longer than it should have.

Harry thinks Liam would be the only person who would go through exams and still return to the pitch for practice the next day. There is a reason why he is the most sought after Keeper in Hufflepuff, afterall. And if Liam wasn’t his best friend since first year, there’s not much reason why such a sensible person would be friends with Niall and him. But he figures Liam likes having them around, for Niall’s carefree banter and amplified personality could turn around any atmosphere of tension and Harry did practically teach Liam Divination. 

“There’s plenty of things we cou-“Harry is cut off by the sight of something- or someone. He stops dead in his tracks, shoes already covered in mud and grass. Niall who was right behind him, lets out a muffled groan as he collides with Harry.

There’s someone out in the rain in the night, Harry squints. There’s only so much you can see in this pouring, drizzling rain and not to add, the torch flame alongside the wall of the Castle is not much of a help. Niall seems to catch the direction of Harry’s gaze.

“Should we check if they need help?” Harry asks, water dripping from his chestnut curls which is still held in place with his headband.

“Fuck, no. This week was bad but I haven’t completely lost my mind,” the Irish lad protests, the only thing keeping their clothes from getting wet being their water resilient cloaks, thanks to Niall’s knowledge of charms.

“But- let’s just, let’s just go look, yeah?” Harry furrows his brows and there’s a slight downturn of his lips in a frown, like he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing the person is out here. Whoever it is. And Niall knows that of all people, Harry would probably not be able to sleep. His persistence and ability to dive right into things and situations are what made Niall be so fond of him. There’s times where you can clearly see why Harry was put in Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff. He would’ve fit in both but his spontaneous stirs of action where he isn’t afraid to act on his morals and his penchant to seize opportunities to make changes are what really put him in this house with Niall.

“For Gordic’s sake,” Niall mutters, sighing and nods as they both run towards the dark silhouette. Upon closer inspection, the lad seems to be a student, doesn’t look a day older than them. He’s got raven locks of hair falling on his face.

“Lumos,” Niall whips out his wand and the lad moves, startling both of them. He seems to be clutching the side of his stomach with his palm, that’s when it all becomes visible. The lad’s arm is laden with cuts, bruises and grazes. Harry immediately looks at him. And Niall knows the look on Harry’s face, he’s about shake his head and say a big ‘no’ before Harry gives him a pleading look.

“-but Ni, he’s hurt so bad. He can’t even make it inside,” Harry says softly, his tone laced with concern over this stranger like they just didn’t meet him like, 0.4564 seconds ago.

Niall cards his fingers through his ashy blonde hair, clearly frustrated at the turn of events which took place tonight. He crouches, his wand hovering and illuminating the lad to inspect any other injuries, “Do ye want to take him to Madam Pomfrey?”

This seems to stir the lad who was otherwise curled up against the Castle’s wall.

“Not the hospital,” he says or more like, he groans out in pain. His chest falling and rising increasingly fast as he repeats himself again.

“Ni, could you get my Potions bag from the common room?” Harry asks urgently.

“-but Harry”

“Hurry, please,” Harry looks at him adamantly. Niall sighs and quickly bolts indoors to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Meanwhile, Harry unfastens his cloak and wraps it around the stranger when he sees his hands trembling. His clothes are wet. Knuckles red, there’s a large gash under his jaw and dirt on his clothes. Jesus Christ, Harry thinks. Who in the name of Merlin would do this? The boy seems to wrap his fingers around the cloak and pulls it over him properly.

“I’m going to take you inside, okay?” Harry talks to him and all he gets in response is a desperate nod. Harry takes the lad’s arm and wraps it around his shoulder, the boy inhales sharply. He leans on Harry and slowly, they make their way inside. The Castle is warm, there’s not many students around and Harry imagines that it is just after dinner hours when everyone must be gathered around their common rooms or heading to bed. He sits the lad under a stairway near the front door. Since the lighting is better now, he finally takes in the mess the boy’s in. He’s badly beaten up, cold, wet, clutching his waist and Harry thinks, maybe it’s not bad that they decided to help the boy.

“Episkey,” Harry mutters under his breath, waving his wand around the lad’s wrist and arm. The scratches and traces of blood now dissolving into thin air, albeit slowly. Niall comes rushing within minutes, he heads for the door before catching them under the stairway, in a little nook.

“Here,” Niall hands him the bag and watches as Harry rummages through it. Harry pulls out an odd, box shaped glass bottle.

“Hold his jaw up,” Harry instructs Niall. He cleaned the cut with a dab of some purple liquid, whose name evades Niall, it must’ve smoked and stung gathering from the boy’s response but he must’ve felt healed instantly. The gash goes away, fading into the skin perfectly as if it were never there.

“Better?” Harry asks the boy, who nods and seems to stir a bit more awake. His knees pulled close to his chest, when fall flat on the ground, Niall notices the green jumper.

“Haz,” Niall calls to draw his attention to the jumper as Harry’s cloak falls off his shoulders a bit. Harry takes in the green color of the crest and a snake embroidered neatly at the top left of his jumper. _Slytherin_. He doesn’t know why that matters but the Irish lad pales beside him. He nudges him questioningly, stopping his rummaging.

Niall inhales, his blue irises stark in the light of the hallway.

He swallows, “It’s Zayn Malik.”

Harry exhales a sigh of relief, “Yeah, so?” He really thought Niall had something much more serious to say than the lad’s name. It’s good that Niall recognizes him.

“What do you mean, ’yeah, so?’ It’s Zayn Malik. We shouldn’t- Harry, we shouldn’t be caught with him,” Niall tells him.

“Don’t be insane, we helped him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Haz, seriously. If Theo or Blaise see us with Zayn like this, there’s no thinking of what they’ll do. Maybe they’ll think we did this and-“

“Ni, it’s after hours. There’s literally no one around. It’ll be fine, alright? If it gets bad, we can call for Alexa,” Harry assures him.

Alexa Chung is one of Harry’s many friends who being from Slytherin herself, seems to spend an awful lot of time with her friends from other houses and Harry was no exception. However, he can also see why Niall is visibly stressed about this. The thing is, Zayn Malik is the soon-to-be prefect for Slytherin once Luke, a sixth year, finishes school. Harry’s heard about them. About how cruel Luke can be, how cold and calculative his every move is.

He himself would never do anything, of course. But he is frequently accompanied with Aiden and Nick who have often been in trouble for beating students up. He’s heard about Luke’s distaste for muggle born wizards. It never failed to send a shiver down Harry’s spine when he thinks of the things he’s heard but chooses not to believe. And of course, being in the same Quidditch team, it meant that Zayn, Louis, Blaise and Theo were close to Luke, almost part of his posy, by extension.

They like to rile people up sometimes, talk back to professors and as if that wasn’t enough, they also had an air of arrogance around them. Even if they’re all in the same year, their little group never really bothers to talk to other people. Except for Louis Tomlinson. He seems to know everyone.

Harry’s never spoken to any of them, never had to chance to because they don’t even share a class together but that seems to be the general consensus about them around here, anyway.

Harry hopes Zayn is nothing like them. I mean, he got beat up, didn’t he?

“So. Shall we take him to the Slytherin Common Room, then?” Harry murmurs, standing up.

“Are ye insane? It’s a suicide mission,” Niall scoffs mockingly, crossing his arms.

“Ferula,” Harry casts the spell, tapping the lad- Zayn’s arm with his wand. Bandages spun up around his arm, strapping it tightly to a splint. The corner of Harry’s mouth tip up as he is satisfied with his work. And mostly relieved that he was able to help.

“We can’t just leave him here. Let’s just leave him outside the Common Room hallway, at least. He looks like he’s had a worse night than us,” Harry goes on, examining if there’s anything else he could do to help Zayn.

After a few more whisper fights, Niall and Harry carry Zayn down the marble staircase, to a door on the right of the Entrance Hall.

“Harry, Niall,” comes a voice behind them. Niall grimaces at being caught and slowly turns. He exhales after discovering that it’s only Liam and he’s standing at the opposite staircase which Niall believes, would never allow a good look Zayn’s face.

Harry waves at him with the free hand which isn’t supporting Zayn stand up.

“Had a fun night? Who’s that?” Liam laughs, his eyes crinkling.

“Oh, just Greg. He’s very drunk,” Niall lets out a nervous laugh. Liam shakes his head fondly and carries on a conversation with some girl from Ravenclaw, climbing up the stairs.

Harry lets out a breath, “That was close.”

“Ye don’t say,” Niall glares at him for a moment, repositioning himself to support Zayn’s weight leaning on him.

They reach the end of the stairs; the entrance to the common room of Slytherin located behind a bare stretch of stone wall in the dungeons of the Hogwarts Castle.

“For a guy who’s a Seeker, he sure is heavy,” Niall mutters under his breath as they sit him down against the walls of the hallways. Zayn still hasn’t spoken or even glanced at them once, probably exhausted beyond his strength. They stop to catch their breaths but suddenly, the sound of footsteps exacerbate the anxiety in the air, causing them to quickly make their way out of there, rushing back up the stairs.

They ran till they found themselves in the Gryffindor common room: a cosy, round room full of splashes of red banners and mahogany furniture.

“Jesus, Harry,” Niall takes his shoes off and exhales once he’s plopped down on his bed.

“What?” Harry frowns, taking his now dry clothes and slipping into something warmer like his beige jumper and some sweats and slips under the duvet, stretching his frame over the bed.

“What a night, right?” Niall’s voice comes from the side of the bed as he laughs over their antics that night.

........................

“Zayn?”

Zayn hums at the sound of his name. He gently turns from being on his side to laying on his back. His eyes open up to see the lush, dark green drape spread across the bed posts. He takes a moment to wake up, slowly gathering his whereabouts when a very concerned Louis looks at him from his bed side.

“Mate, what the fuck happened?” He says a tad louder than Zayn’s liking who only scrunches his note to deliver his disapproval.

“What do you mean?” Zayn croaks out, voice hoarse. He lifts his hand to rub his eye, brows furrowing when he sees bandages on his arm.

And that’s when it hits him. Memories of last night come flooding.

“Don’t play daft, Malik. Aiden found you right outside the common room, looking like hell,” his tone is still so, so loud. The sharp cadence of his voice never stung Zayn more than now.

Zayn groans and tries to sit up but winces as he feels pain on his left side. With some help from Louis, he sits up causing the sheets to pool in his lap.

Zayn’s jaw clenches when he looks at himself, taking in every cut and scratch which was too deep to heal completely till now. Even with the fucking spells. And the bandages. He swears his body wills itself to get better at this point, now that Zayn is completely conscious.

He stands up, walking around the lavish room which is laden with a big mirror framed with golden specks of metal, a portrait of a serpent and some art; giving the room a grand atmosphere but also a cold one.

He takes a white shirt and pulls it over his torso, shoulders covering immediately and the shirt growing tighter around his toned frame as he buttons it from the end.

“Some fuckers- came out of nowhere, Louis. Disarmed me of my wand,” Zayn faces the huge window, his amber eyes gazing right ahead to the lake. Even if his tone was calm, his body was not. Blood coursed through his veins in a hurry, jaw still clenched as if his body cannot _fucking accept_ what happened. As if it was fucking challenging the circumstances of the past.

He continues, “Fucked me up all proper, didn’t even get a chance to see who it was,” he eyes the meadows, his wrist leaning on the wall and he lounges on the triangle his arm folds in, thinking over the events of last night.

The events, surprisingly, don’t seem to anger Louis who gets up and stands beside him. Zayn is shaken from his thoughts when he feels a hand on his back and is met with an equally concerned gaze which is usually cold or reflecting of cerulean mischief.

“But someone helped you, yeah?” his chin raises as he supplies.

Zayn shrugs. Yeah, he remembers someone or maybe more people helping him but he was too fucked to remember anything or even look at them. Zayn pulls out his Slytherin tie from the drawers next to the window, laying it flat beneath his collar.

As he wears his silver ring on which a skull is engraved, Louis continues, “I know you’re more interested about finding out who dared to touch you,” Louis pins his snake badge on his tie, “but it wouldn’t hurt to thank those who saved you.”

Zayn’s breath evens out as he looks down then at Louis who walks over to the pool of clothes which were thrown at the corner of the room. _Zayn’s clothes from last night._ Louis brings him a black material and when he opens his fist, it reveals a red emblem. _Gryffindor._

There’s a knock on the door. Aiden.

“Glad to see you’re alive, after all” he says swiftly, hands folded behind his back as he walks towards them. Aiden is a year older than both of them, best mates with Luke, the prefect of the House of Slytherin. Zayn always considered him someone to look up to. They all did. Aiden has the Midas’ Touch. He’s a greater Seeker in Quidditch, an even better wizard. He had this staggering clairvoyance that Zayn was always envious of. 

Zayn scoffs, “ _No one can kill me in a way that matters._ ”

Aiden smirks, bringing in the Slytherin robe and holding it open for Zayn to wear.

“What is that doing here?” Aiden scowls, looking at the Gryffindor cloak.

Louis sighs and shakes his head, “Incorrigible. Both of you.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Gratitude and whatnot.”


	2. we'll stumble through heaven.

Say what you want about Louis but he was never unkind. Seeing Zayn practically grow up in front of his eyes has made him somewhat protective. Okay, a lot protective. He has seen the first year Zayn who would sacrifice a kidney not to speak up in class to fifth year Zayn who is in line to be made prefect of the house.

It still surprises him that someone would help Zayn. Did people fear him? Yes. Do girls send chocolates with love potion laced with them? Far more times than Louis can count. But there were few who would protect him. Perhaps, it was Louis’ guilty conscience which didn’t let him sleep last night because why wasn’t he there when his best friend got attacked.

He still remembers when they were in the Malik Manor, celebrating Christmas in their first year. Yaseer couldn’t be more delighted that his only son was going to carry the legacy of being sorted into Slytherin but it was Tricia who was worried for her son enough to ask Louis to look out for him, sometimes. As he grew up, his allegiance always laid with Zayn. He’d often have these rare conversations with Tricia who could express her fears only before Louis because Yaseer wanted his son to be the greatest wizard there is, in Dark Arts. Tricia just wanted to raise a son who knew the difference between being a wizard in Dark Arts and actually letting the Dark Arts take over the wizard.

“Dreaming of your date with Eleanor, you git?” Louis is pulled out his reverie by a familiar voice.

“If you weren’t my best friend, I’d have hexed you by now,” Louis laughs as Zayn takes a seat next to him in Potions.

The tip of Zayn’s tongue presses behind his teeth when he flashes Louis a smile, already feeling so much better.

“Speaking of being hexed, I ran a little intel about that night’s affairs,” Louis murmurs, paging through the Potions book as they’re instructed to open up page 10 and brew up ‘Draught of the Living Dead.’

Suddenly, there’s a cough which seems to interrupt them from further conversation. Louis’ head snaps and he glances at Niall Horan, “just the fumes from the cauldron,” he weakly supplies to an inquisitorial looking Louis, who slowly nods and returns to the conversation with Zayn.

“You find who attacked me?” Zayn asks, keeping his voice considerably low as he works on the ingredients to go in his potion.

“No, of course not. I found out who helped you,” Louis says which earns him an eye roll from Zayn. Another fit of cough coming from beside them, Horan. Louis raises his brows in confusion.

“The fumes,” Niall feigns laughter mixed with a slightly mortified look.

Zayn either doesn’t care or doesn’t mind. Probably the first one.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of this than finding out who attacked me, in the first place,” Zayn says indignantly.

“Because, because of them my best friend didn’t freeze to death outside, thank you very much,” Louis huffs. And to be honest, yeah, he’s got a fair point. Zayn was pretty fucked up that night. If it hadn’t been for some stranger/s helping him, he’d probably be in the infirmary for days now. Maybe even let off from the Quidditch season coming up.

Zayn was grateful, don’t get him wrong. He had spent a considerable amount of time looking at the almost healed wounds the next morning of the incident. The person who cast the spells definitely knew what they were doing. It was almost as if Zayn was never ambushed. But he couldn’t get himself to care enough to look for the person if they aren’t coming to check up on him themselves.

But he remembers talking to Aiden about it the other night.

_“You didn’t see them?” Aiden says, now crouched in front of Zayn, tying his shoe laces. They’re in the Quidditch Changing Room, getting geared up for a practice match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Zayn rests his elbows on his knees, drawing closer to keep the volume of the conversation to a bare minimum and shakes his head._

_“Does..?” Zayn musters, his eyes wandering to Luke, the Captain of the team who is at the opposite end of the room, laughing about something with Nick Grimshaw._

_“Luke knows,” Aiden replies, “He’s not happy with it, to say the least,” He helps Zayn with the shin guards._

_Upon hearing this, Zayn’s eyes melt into something unlike him. Those amber irises no longer confident or focused but reflecting concern mixed with a tinge of shame and self doubt. It’s a disgrace that he let the incident even happen. He’s supposed to be better than this, he mulls. His thoughts shaken away when Aiden nudges him._

_“Don’t worry about it, he’s not mad at you,” the older lad assures Zayn with a helpful hand on his shoulder. Zayn collects himself and inhales a sharp breath. He juts his chin up, squaring his shoulders once he regains his composure._

_“I heard Tomlinson is looking for the missing Gryffindor,” Aiden chuckles, shaking his head, “That’s more for his own conscience than it is for you, isn’t it?”_

_The corners of Zayn’s lips lift up, he looks at a now standing Aiden through his lashes, “Couldn’t be more obvious.”_

_“Go along with it, alright?” the older lad extends his hand to Zayn, who takes it and stands up. Aiden’s grey eyes now fixated at tying the green and silver cape around his neck as Zayn wears his Seeker gloves. He cocks a brow at Aiden, questioning what the older lad might be getting at._

_“You never know what he has seen. Or whom,” his grey eyes meeting Zayn’s amber ones, tone laced with a vengeful malice that Zayn’s well versed with. He gives Zayn a pat on the back as Luke gathers everyone at the center of the room to discuss the plan for the match._

“I’m listening,” Zayn tells Louis which earns him a grateful grin from the blue eyed boy who cuts a silver of dragon liver and pours the contents into the cauldron.

“His name’s Josh. Josh Devine,” Louis mutters with a tone which Zayn knows very well. There’s a catch. There’s no way Louis would find out who it was and lay it to rest.

“And what additional problems have you created for me?”

Louis feigns a shocked expression, “Problems? I just asked him to meet you between the passages of the North Tower. I figured you’d prefer to that after this instead of sleeping in your room again,”

Zayn shoots a glare at Louis and he’s about to say something back but Professor Snape hovers above them, checking their progress on the potions and nodding approvingly at Zayn’s cauldron.

…………..

The Passages are essentially bridges which connect the towers of the Hogwarts Castle. They are built with huge stones and large arches which overview the surrounding greenery.

Zayn has one hand in the pocket of his trousers and the other he uses to lean against the stone railing of the passage, looking over at the meadows.

He is disturbed from his thoughts by a feeble yet cheerful voice. Almost makes him roll his eyes, truly. So, he squares up, looks straight ahead at the brunette lad who is doe eyed and looks like he belongs at the opposite side of the spectrum as Zayn. While Zayn stands here, the magnificent dark green of his cloak revealed when the wind blows through it.

When he looks at the brunette lad, he seems nervous; his weight shifting from one foot to another. Zayn has a way of making people feel out of place, squirm beneath his gaze like he can overpower them. This makes him smirk.

“H-Hi, Zayn. Louis said you wanted to see me?” his hands are folded in front of him and he looks hopeful. Zayn would scoff and walk away. It’s laughable, really. The entire situation. But he bites back an acerbic reply and goes with a curt nod.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Josh takes it as a sign to continue.

“First of all, I wanted to thank you,” Zayn replies lowly, looking at the brunette lad through his lashes which makes his cheeks grow warmer and into a pale shade of pink. He seems charmed enough, not that Zayn even needed to try. Devine just melts into the conversation like putty.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” he murmurs sheepishly, “but, what for?”

“Are you that humble?” Zayn mutters under his breath. _Or just that daft?_ He dismisses the latter question and continues, “Very well, then. I just wanted to thank you for helping me out a week ago, as Louis conveyed, it hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“I helped you a week ago?” Josh sounds unsure, his facial expressions contorting into confusion. Zayn shoots him a perplexed look himself, probably seeming unsure.

“Yes! I mean, yeah. I helped,” Josh quickly gets out, “I remember now,” he laughs, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Zayn searches his blue eyes at the sudden turn of admittance, it’s rather odd. But it doesn’t matter, that’s not the purpose of the conversation.

“Where’d you learn those spells, by the way?” Zayn looks at his arm, not a trace of any wound or even a faint scar. Good as new. If not, better. He always wanted to know. Maybe learn it for himself because man, that would come in handy lots of times.

“Uh, what spells?”

“The spells you cast on me that night, mate,” Zayn clarifies, he’s getting annoyed now. His eyes narrow and he stops walking alongside Devine.

“Josh, where were you last Friday night?”

“The.. Gryffindor common room?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Zayn gets out, inching a step closer. Josh fumbles over his words again. Ah, fuck Louis Tomlinson.

He steps back and shakes his head, “You know what, nevermind. Thanks for meeting me, mate.” Bolts out of here without a second glance at the other lad who was more so, confused by the whole interaction but had shrugged it off.

What a fucking waste to spend an afternoon with a blabbering Gryffindor who for whatever reason lied to him and had no clue what the fuck was going on. Zayn wasn’t in the best mood that afternoon, kept seething to himself while walking to the other side of the Tower.

……………………………

Harry thinks the biggest understatement is that today was a cold day. When everyone was clad with winter cloaks, his was missing until he remembered that he had oh, so loyally given it away to Zayn Malik. He mentally kicks himself as he walks with Luna Lovegood to Herbology. Although he’s wearing his jumper, he swears he could freeze ice cubes off his heart. They’re running a bit late, hence, the powerwalk to the other side of the castle.

“I don’t think we should rush through time, Harry,” she says mildly, trying to catch up to his speed.

“Professor Sprout wouldn’t be too happy to hear that,” he gives her a dimpled smile, his arms around tightly clutched around his books as a cold breeze blows through the Castle’s passage which has open arches and connects two towers of the Castle. There’s obviously less students around but Harry was late after his Transformation class with Liam.

“Look who it is, Lunny Lovegood,” comes a voice behind Harry. He looks back to find Luna being blocked by two guys. _We’re so late_ , he thinks with a frown.

“Do we have a problem?” Harry steps in front of Luna, his hand grabbing her wrist to keep her behind him. She barely looks above his shoulder and tries to stay behind.

Harry recognizes this lot. Theo Nott cocks his head to the side with a smug look on his face. He’s not alone. Blaise Zabini looks amused.

“Oh, we were just speaking to Lunny alone, not a problem,” Blaise replies casual tone.

“Her name’s Luna and we’re running a little late. So, if you’ll excuse us-“

Theo stops Harry by extending his arm out, “Not so fast,” he spits out unkindly. Harry takes one look at the hand on his chest and then at Theo’s icy cold glance. He knows this might end as a confrontation.

But here’s the thing, Harry never liked using magic for dueling or fighting. He found it rather absurd that instead of using powers to create or heal, people would use it for destruction or violence too. Even didn’t like the Dueling Practice they did in his second year.

Having Muggle Born parents, Harry has always learned to keep his powers to a minimum. His mother who, upon learning the fact that Harry was different, was afraid of him every time he even touched his wand. It would serve as a kick to the gut when he saw fear in her eyes and he’s forgotten the amount of times he’s had to reassure her, growing up, that he’d pick his wand to do good _\- to be good._

_He remembers what Professor McGonagall told him after his first Dueling Practice, “It’s alright to use your powers, Harry,” she takes his arm and examines his wounds after (not) Dueling with another student, “Use them when you need to. They are there to serve you, not the other way round.”_

He doesn’t miss when Blaise takes his wand out quietly behind Theo.

“Expelliarmus,” golden sparks fly from Harry’s wand which knock the wand out of Blaise’s hand. He turns behind him, gently pushing Luna to the other side of the Passage, “Go,” he says urgently, “Quick, run.” Thankfully, she listens to him albeit reluctantly after he insists the second time and when she’s made it half way to the other side, he turns back to the lads who are fuming.

“The fuck did you do, huh?” Theo raises his voice as Blaise scrambles to get his wand. His blue eyes suddenly grow darker as he looks at Harry with disgust which makes him step back. He falls thud on the ground when Blaise shoves him with such force.

“Impedimenta,” Harry casts the impediment spell which knocks Theo off his feet. He sees this as a chance to run, his feet don’t fail him but he is suddenly knocked against the side stone wall. He lets out a muffled groan as his spine smacks against the wall and he falls to the ground, on his knees. His hand feels the back of his spine but the next moment he wonders what even happened.

He takes a double take when he sees someone come through the end of the passage, cloak whipping in the air with all too familiar colors: green and silver.

“Seriously?” he asks rhetorically to Theo who is on the ground and helps him up. Once they step closer, Harry inhales a shaky breath as he realizes who it is. His hand mindlessly searching for his wand on the ground, only for it to be kicked away out of reach by the raven haired boy. Harry leans his neck back as a jet black wand is pointed at him. He slowly stands up only to be met with Zayn Malik’s unforgiving gaze.

“Whom do we have here, Blaise?” he asks with a low tone as Harry squirms under his hold.

“A mudblood,” Blaise smirks, “apparently one with too much courage, called Harry Styles.”

Harry winces at the term, probably the first time he’s been called that to his face. He refuses to meet their gaze, suffering through the after effects of hearing such a derogatory term being used. _It’s just a word. It’s just a word. It’s just a word._ He repeats in his head as Zayn inches closer, grabbing him by his collar.

He looks different, Harry thinks. He thought Zayn could never look this cold, there was no way. But here he was, proven wrong. There was a golden copper tint to his eyes which reflected unwavering confidence that edged on arrogance, most of the time. He was anything but unkempt, nothing like the Zayn he had found that night. No, here he looked tall, broad shoulders, quick with his wand and precise too. Harry glanced at Zayn’s bandaged up arm which was visible only because the sleeve of his cloak had ridden up a little. Zayn tracked Harry’s gaze and the coldness in his eyes turned into seething anger as he was again knocked into the stone wall, for a good measure.

“You can imagine my,” Zayn pauses as he cocks his head to the side, “utter curiosity over who would toy with my friends like that. I think it’s only fair we toy with you back, ey?”

The raven haired lad nods at Blaise who starts ripping Harry’s parchments and books as he struggles to free himself from Zayn’s grip.

Zayn throws Harry to the ground next who falls quite hard, hitting his hand in the process. Harry's breaths now quickening, he feels light headed from it all. And it's all a blur next; Theo kicking his books, Zayn lifting him up to his feet and shoving him. It's like his body can't take anymore of it, doesn't want to. He feels weak, outnumbered. Wonders what he did to deserve this. He forgets how many times Zayn casts spells on him, knocking him off the ground with the Stupefy spell. 

“Let me go. Please, Zayn,” he pleads, his body still in pain over the knocking and shoving. Thankfully, he says it before anyone goes throwing any punches. As soon as Harry said that, something changes within Zayn. His once confident demeanor reducing to a perplexed one, pupils a little wider. Harry somehow manages to free himself from the grasp and is thrown to the floor by another spell from Blaise. It knocks the wind out of him as he groans, clutching his side and he grabs his wand just in time, “Protego,” Harry exhales out as he leans his back against the stone wall, catching his breath.

Zayn looks a bit pale, his mouth slightly ajar at what happened. He tries to step closer to Harry but is stopped as he runs into the invisible shield created by Harry by that last spell.

“Harry, are you okay?” comes a familiar voice, close to Harry and he sees Liam Payne run up to him with Professor McGonagall and Luna. Liam crouches next him, inspecting his condition.

“Mr. Malik, please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this,” Professor talks to him sternly.

“I- I don’t-“

But he can’t stop looking at Harry who winces once Payne takes his wrist. Sprained wrist, perhaps. He certainly doesn’t miss it as the Hufflepuff cloak of Liam’s is wrapped around Harry and he’s taken away. Is he really the one who helped Zayn that night? Could it have been possible? He feels something ugly settling into his stomach as Harry is helped by Liam and Luna. It can't be. Right? But then again, Zayn's own mind works as the devil's advocate and points out all the signs he missed. Harry Styles certainly knew his way around spells. He had the upper hand with both Theo and Blaise till Zayn stepped in. He also looked concerned for Zayn there, once. And he's a mudblood, at that. Zayn frowns when Harry spares him a glance which only conveys one thing: _pain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading this fic, here's the second chapter. i'm working on the third and i'll be updating it and finishing it within a week or so. i think i know where i want to take the story, so gear up for lots of angst and moody zarry. let me know how you like this one. (:


	3. don't get cut on my edges.

The dark green silken sheets are messier than the boy’s raven hair, who spends most of the stormy night tossing and turning in his bed. Sleep evades Zayn. He lets out a deep sigh as another bout of drizzling rain splatters against his bedroom window. He pulls the duvet upto his shoulders, tries to snuggle into a cozy spot but nothing helps.

“Lumos,” he mumbles once he finds his wand, lifting his body up by his elbows and looming over the nightstand where his clock is kept. 12:24 am. His eyes fall on a moving photo frame kept at his bed side table. It’s a picture of his parents with his sisters and him. They looked really happy that day. He watches as the picture strikes a pose and then the people in the photo erupt with laughter. Something about it never failed to make him feel warm inside.

He knows exactly why he’s up. It’s his bloody conscience which won’t let him get some dumb sleep. Walking up to the seat created by his window pane, he lifts himself up to climb on it. A blanket covering him as he sits by his window, looking at the lightning and listening to the howling wind.

His forehead feels the cool of the glass when he rests it against the window. He briefly examines his wand. Ten inch long, made of hawthorn wood which had a unicorn hair core. Remembers the first time he used it. His dad wanted to teach him a simple spell, just to get him started but Zayn, he wanted to perform the spell which he had so many times seen his dad perform when he was little. He was so fascinated by it.

Extending out his palm on his lap, he waves the wand around it, muttering the spell. In a matter of seconds, winds start circling. As he moves his wand in circular motion, the storm or essentially, a tornado picks up. Dark, strong, windy. He doesn’t know why he wanted to learn something like this for his first spell but he figured it reflected a part of him.

Growing up, he was taught to honor power above all. Power, strength and ambition to do things which ordinary people couldn’t do. His grandfather being one of the strongest wizards there ever was in Dark Arts. His granddad wasn’t necessarily evil, he just knew. He knew power and when to exert it and when to withdraw. Ended up working for the Ministry and taught Zayn a lot about the defense against Dark Arts.

That’s the thing about Dark Arts, it is fueled by power. Zayn was also taught that pure bloods could exude the most power because they’re magic through and through. Their blood doesn’t know anything else. It’s what attracted him to pursue it in the first place. It’s the type of magic that is mainly used to cause harm but it’s not evil. It wasn’t his intent to be evil to Harry. Speaking of which, how does a mudbl- muggle born go around casting shield charms with such ease? It took Zayn forever to do those. He shakes his head, why is he even thinking about him.

“You sure whip up storms faster than you give hand jobs,” Zayn rolls his eyes at the voice, he fists his palm and the storm falls apart when he opens it.

“Why are you still up, you twat?” he replies, seeing Louis grin at his joke and take a seat next to him on the window pane.

Louis shrugs, “Could ask the same to you,” he kicks Zayn’s foot with his own, “heard you got into a bit of a scuffle.”

Zayn rubs his hand over his face, putting the wand away, “I wouldn’t call it a scuffle, per se.”

“Just tell me what happened.”

“Uh,” drawls Zayn, “As it turns out, I might’ve, you know- I might’ve cast some spells which might’ve led to some minor injuries.”

Louis chuckles in disbelief, “We both know you don’t cast spells for minor injuries, mate.”

Zayn gives him a helpless look, looking at his feet as he spoke next, “I might’ve used a bit of,” he furrows his brows, “force? But that’s not the worst part of it.”

Louis raises his brows, his eyes trained on his best friend as an indication to continue, “It wasn’t Josh,” Zayn looks at him.

“It’s- Harry Styles who found me that night,” he says in a low mumble, “And it’s Harry Styles who might’ve- you know, been at the receiving end of..”

“You did what?” Louis spits out, incredulous, “Also, what? Pansy was wrong?”

Zayn kicks his shin lightly, “That’s what you’re worried about? And Pansy is always wrong,” he slams his forehead against the glass of the window gently, “but that’s not the point.”

“Styles? I mean, I heard he was good but- also, how did this happen again?”

Zayn doesn’t move, just quickly musters the entire story for Louis about how he found Theo on the ground and Blaise’s wand knocked out. He had to step in. _He had to._

“Mate, Theo was hounding Luna,” Louis says and Zayn makes an ‘ugh’ sounds under his breath, “but you didn’t know, did you?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t really bother myself with their fights, you know that.”

“So, that means your Gryffindor has a knack for saving people. How quintessential,” Louis snorts.

“Gee, thanks, mate,” Zayn pushes him lightly, “way to make me feel better.”

“Just make amends,” Louis says, muffling a yawn with the back of his hand and he steps down after giving Zayn’s foot another kick as ‘goodnight.’

“See you at the pitch, tomorrow. Get some sleep bloody sleep,” he says before he leaves.

Zayn steps down from his window seat and walks over to his closet, rummaging through it. His fingers run against the very thing he wished to see.

…………….

When Harry opens his eyes the next morning, he feels much better than he did before. There’s a straight line of sunlight coming from his open window and he sees his sprained wrist is much better too. He makes a mental note to thank Madam Pomfrey. Even if she taught him some of the spells when he used to visit Liam in the infirmary after his Quidditch matches, he wasn’t absolutely perfect in his healing magic. He has so much more to learn.

He doesn’t quite believe the events of yesterday or maybe doesn’t want to. He really got into a fight, huh. His mother certainly won’t be happy.

As soon as the blonde lad enters the room, Harry quickly covers himself with the sheets.

“No, I saw that,” Niall rushes close to him, tearing the sheets away, “you’re awake.”

Harry whines, hiding his face in his hands.

“I told ye Zayn Malik was trouble,” he crosses his arms and looks at Harry pointedly, “he doesn’t have a pint of gratitude in his body.”

Harry lets his fingers separate and sneaks a look at Niall, his lips in a small frown, “Alright, fine. He sucks but I don’t regret helping him.”

Niall rolls his eyes, throwing his hands in the air like he doesn’t believe this shit. And it’s true, _he doesn’t_.

“You’re that dumb, are ya?”

“No, of course not-“ Harry continues after sitting up straight against the headboard, “I don’t regret doing what’s right. If he’s a bloody arse then even Merlin can’t help him.”

“You’re too kind and it’s annoying, Styles,” Niall scolds, ruffling up his curls fondly.

A knock interjects further conversation, it’s Seamus.

“Uh, Harry?” he has something in his hands, “where do I put this?”

Harry looks at Niall who walks over to him and takes it, “bloody ‘ell, it’s so heavy.” He finally puts it down on Harry’s bed. There’s a silk green cover over the basket.

They both share a look.

“One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?” Niall reads the cover of one of the books, looking as confused as ever. He looks at Harry for help but he’s lost too. He leans over there and looks through the books. _Standard Book of Spells 5 by Miranda Goshawk. Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard._

“What the fuck are these?”

“The books I lost yesterday,” Harry tells him, a small smile curving his lips as he looks at them.

“Mate, these are used but they look brand new,” Niall notes, flipping the pages.

Harry doesn’t know what to make of these. He had forgotten about it up until now and he couldn’t be more relieved that he received them.

“Know who sent them?”

“No, there’s no note. Just says your name,” Niall plops down on the bed after scanning the basket.

“Hey, didn’t you say Liam was there with you?” he carefully proposes.

Harry nods, “You don’t mean-“

“Fuckin’ hell, if I knew Liam was this well off, I’d be pining over him too,” Niall laughs, giving Harry a light push.

Harry scoffs, his cheeks turning a light pink, “I don’t pine over him.”

“I think the whole Hogwarts knows it but him.” Niall gets a pillow thrown in his direction which he laughs it off. God, Liam? Really? Harry knew Liam was nice to him and maybe a couple- okay, more than a couple times he even thought he really liked the Hufflepuff lad. But this was definitely new territory.

Niall gives him an all too knowing look when they find Liam waiting outside the Gryffindor Common Room and all Harry could do was glare at him and turn pink.

“Hey, you alright?” Liam smiles kindly at Harry, his brown eyes reflecting genuine concern.

“Oh, he’s definitely better now,” Niall chimes in with a suggestive grin and gives Liam a side hug.

Harry pushes Niall away, “Don’t listen to him, he’s out of his mind.”

Liam lets out a laugh, “Here, I got this,” he says, taking Harry’s books from him. And if that doesn’t make Harry feel all weird inside, he’s lying.

“Fuck, mate. I have Divination today. What even is the point of that subject?” Niall complains, all grumpy.

Liam hums, like he’s actually pondering over it as they make their way down the stairs to the Grand Hall. Niall gestures them that he’ll catch up with them later as he goes onto Ravenclaw to see some of Greg’s friends.

“Also, Defense against the Dark Arts always made me feel so..” Liam goes on, falling in step with him.

“On edge,” Harry completes, he stops in his tracks though. Having spotted a fierce looking Zayn Malik just a few feet away, right at the front. He gets this sick feeling in his stomach again, an itch to reach out for his wand and build invisible shields upon shields. Something to separate this nagging feeling which flows from Malik to him. Liam must’ve sensed it, he throws an arm over Harry’s shoulder protectively and also to assure him. Steers him away to the Gryffindor table without much hassle and a promise to be there whenever Harry wants to talk about it or something.

The world deserves more Liam Paynes, Harry thinks to himself as he can’t stop smiling at what happened this morning. Maybe it’s the latter’s crinkling smiles and longing touches that always made Harry feel so safe. Like, he belonged there in that moment, laughing with Niall and being close to Liam. Didn’t feel like his sheer energy was repulsive to Harry’s presence like Zayn.

 _Enough of him, already. It’s all done._ He should forget about it and look forward to his classes. 

So, that’s how it goes for a week or so. Harry wakes up, Seamus brings him another basket of chocolates, parchments and quills, a soft knitted sweater with a green headband (which Liam says brings out his eyes), and finally, a brand new Gryffindor winter cloak. Niall loses his mind over this, says there’s no way Liam doesn’t fancy him and just keeps sending him presents out of the “goodwill” of his heart.

Life is good; he attends Transfiguration, Defense against Dark Arts and Herbology with Liam and Charms, Arithmacy, Astronomy with Niall. And if sometimes he notices Zayn Malik looking at him with a kinder look on his face when he wears his gifted sweater, he files it away as nothing.

……………

There’s a light buzz in the air, a white noise clamor of students talking amongst themselves. They’re all huddled to one side of the classroom today, it being the class of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The whole room falls silent once they hear sound, loud steps of Professor Snape who carries a natural sneer and a disdain which is like second nature to him. Clad in all black, he crosses his arms as he walks in and stands next to a small sized closet.

“Today’s class will have a bit more,” he pauses, “practical demonstration, if you will. Now, who remembers the last time you’ve seen something like this? Mr. Tomlinson?”

At the right end of the crowd, Louis speaks, “We actually practiced the Riddikulus spell against the Boggarts with Professor Lupin in second year.”

“That’s correct,” Professor Snape is interrupted with a loud bang coming from inside the closet, “Each of you will come forth when I call and face the Boggart with spells you’ve learned in the past three years. Who would like to go first? Mr. Payne?”

“Sir?” Liam responds, looking a bit nervous to go first.

“Good luck,” Luna and Harry mutter at the same time and Liam gives them a grateful look.

“Liam’s got this, right?” Harry asks Luna.

She can’t take her eyes off of what’s happening like the rest of the class, “I sure hope so.”

Liam nods at Professor once he’s positioned in front of the closet, wand ready in hand. Once the closet opens slowly with a creaking sound, the Boggart escapes. It shape shifts into a giant spider much like the one in second year when Liam did this. It was easier back then, he only had to cast one spell. Here, he has to defend himself against it. With actual spells.

“Confundo,” Liam casts and the Boggart is pushed back into the closet. The class erupts in a cheer, only to be silenced again when the spider quickly rebounds and paces faster at Liam who nearly ducks a collision when he moves to the right side.

The Boggart spider is fierce now, relentless.

“Stupefy!”

It misses the Boggart completely. Liam is walking in circles with his wand pointed up, the Boggart swoops in and attacks him. Luna gasps, there’s a red scratch on Liam’s arm.

“Episkey,” Harry mutters under his breath and the scratch disappears, allowing Harry a breath of relief.

“Mr. Styles,” Professor Snape calls, the Boggart freezes after his under his spell, “You think you can do any better?”

“Sir, I-“

“Come forward,” Professor instructs.

Harry reluctantly steps forward, wiping his hands on his cloak and standing back with his wand pointed forward. The Boggart shape shifts again, this time, it’s a huge wave of water. Seeing it already made Harry feel like he was suffocating. It furiously approached him, almost attempting to drown.

“Protego,” Harry gets out quickly, turning his face and shutting his eyes in fear.

When the water doesn’t drown him, he opens his eyes to see the water being stopped the invisible wall.

In the crowd, Louis gives Zayn an impressed look, who shrugs in disbelief.

There’s a sound of breaking. Harry looks at this enormous mountain of water which is coming in waves against the shield, causing it to develop cracks.

His breath is stuck in his throat as he thinks of other spells, just about anything. Suddenly, he has an idea.

“Aguamenti,” he casts, a jet of water producing from his wand. It mixes with the Boggart and maneuvers whichever way Harry moves his wand. He is not exactly controlling the Boggart but keeping it at bay by using water against water.

He steps forward, concentrating on pushing the Boggart back into the closet. And just when he thinks he’s almost had it, the Boggart raises to the height of the ceiling and immediate falls on Harry, a movement too quick for him to catch.

He’s flushed with too much water and pushed against a wall as it almost drowns him, finally draining when Snape closes the closet with an unamused face.

“If you think you’re smarter than the Boggart, think again,” he simply says, “Mr. Malik, if you will please assist Mr. Styles to the infirmary. And Ms. Patil, please step forward for another demonstration.”

Harry rests against the wall, his curls matted to his forehead. He coughs, choking on excess water.

Liam comes to help him stand up and there’s a queue forming as to who faces the Boggart next.

“Harry,” Zayn calls, striding towards them. He sizes up Liam with his gaze, a cold one at that, “that was good,” he tells him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Liam asks Zayn in a distasteful tone.

Zayn stands tall, his lips pursed together, “Taking him to the infirmary. Let’s go,” he tells Harry, grabbing his wrist to pull him towards the exit door.

Before Zayn has the chance to take him though, Liam grips Zayn’s arm to stop him, “I don’t think he wants to go with you.”

Harry looks from Zayn to Liam, none of them have moved, Zayn holding Harry’s arm while Liam stops Zayn.

“Mind your own business,” Zayn nearly growls.

Liam huffs, “You always do as you please?”

“You’re the one stopping him from going to the hospital,” Zayn points out.

Liam blinks, looking offended at the accusation, “What are you saying? You’re the one forcing to take him.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Zayn mutters whilst turning to Harry, “let’s leave.”

Harry pulls his hand away from Zayn, looking away with a frown. Something unsettling about this whole thing. When he looks at Zayn again though, he looks exactly like the day he fought him. But this time, it’s- a look of betrayal? He can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Don’t fucking touch me again,” Harry tells him lowly, not wanting to spare another moment in this tense situation and speeds out of there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels great to know that people actually like what I've written. It makes me so, so happy every time there's a kudos or a comment. Fuels me to write more. It's gonna get even more angsty, haha (: Stay tuned. More chapters to come soon. Thank you, y'all.


	4. do you feel like a young god?

Sounds of quills scribbling onto parchments fill the air, hinting on a vigorous essay writing session for the History of Magic class. It’s kind of really mundane, having to go through pages and pages of magical history and writing an essay on the chronological order of events.

By the time Harry finishes, he’s already tired of it. Ink stains splattered onto his fingers.

“That was the most annoying thing I’ve ever had to do,” Niall nudges him, looking bored out of his mind.

“Tell me about it,” his shoulders drop, just happy to be done with it as he goes up to Professor Binns’ desk and submits his work.

“Uh, Mr. Styles?” Professor beckons.

The class is emptying and Niall is already packing up his things.

“Could you be so kind to put the text books in the shelves? You could even ask Mr. Hor-“

“Sorry, sir. Got another class!” Niall exclaims, grabbing his things with lightning speed as Harry gives him a playful glare.

“Enjoy,” Niall mouths to him with a bashful grin and exits the class.

“S’alright, I’ll be happy to help,” comes a voice behind him.

“Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson. That’d be very kind,” Professor acknowledges him with a small smile and ambles out of the class.

Harry blinks once, carding his fingers through his curls and decides to not make any conversation. Why should he? He has no reason to believe any of Zayn Malik’s friends are any different than he is. So, he resolves that he’ll quickly do the work and leave. Going over to the front desks, he collects the books left behind by the students. Since the subject is so pedantic and theoretic, Professor prefers that they store their books in the class itself and have each one collect it back when required to use in the class.

“These books are so bloody heavy,” Louis comes up beside him when he’s stacking the books on the shelf.

 _That’s what Niall would say_ , he thinks to himself.

“Styles, right?” Louis looks at him with an amiable smile, extending his hand out.

Harry doesn’t know what to make of the gesture so, he shakes his hand to be polite and nods, keeping his lips pursed, “Yeah and you’re Louis Tomlinson.”

“That infamous, ey?” Louis teases, slyly.

“No, I didn’t mean-“

“It’s alright,” the blue eyed lad shrugs, settling into a languid disposition with an easy smile on his face, “Comes with being the best mate of, you know who.”

“Right.”

“Um, I also wanted to thank you for what you did for him. It’s kinda why I stayed back,” Louis scratches the back of his sheepishly, “He gets hurt a lot but it never gets that bad.”

For a moment, he looks serious. His blue irises suddenly dull in the light of the classroom, making him seem sincere in his admittance. And Harry understands. If something were to happen to Niall, it would nearly take the life out of him. 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” He beams a polite smile at him and goes over to collect more books.

“Did you see anyone, then? That night?”

Harry’s lips downturn into a faint frown when his mind drifts to recollect the incident. He shakes his head, crouching down to put the books into the lower section of the shelf, “No, when Niall and I found him, he was-,” Harry pauses, trying to collect his words, “in a lot of pain.”

Louis hums, understandingly. It was a bummer that there were no leads but he’s glad that it’s over. He knows Zayn’s particularly ticked off by the incident but now, he rarely even mentions it. Spends most of his time practicing spells and potions or on the pitch with Louis (and when he’s not doing that, sneering at Harry.)

“Well, I’m glad you found him. I’m sorry that it wasn’t communicated in the best ways.”

Harry scoffs under his breath. No shit, it wasn’t.

Louis hears him though, “What?”

“Uh, no offense but how could you be friends with him? He’s just so..”

“Intense?”

“A little,” Harry shrugs without giving it much thought.

“A prick?”

Sighing, he gives Louis this look like he agrees with it but doesn’t want to admit it, making the latter laugh. Now facing the class, he sees more books laying around and groans internally. Louis has not been much help in clearing and he kind of wishes, he made up some lame excuse and ran off with Niall.

“Scary?”

“I’m not scared of him.”

“No?” It makes Louis smile, his tone laced with curiosity more than disdain.

“You should be,” a hoarse voice comes behind them, startling Harry enough for him to drop a book. And surely enough, standing behind them is Zayn Malik. He looks indifferent, arms crossed over his chest and chin jutted out as he leans against a nearby wall.

“No reason to be,” Harry says calmly, trying to compose himself when in reality he feels an urge to smack him across the face, “Didn’t I find you beat up, a couple weeks ago?”

Zayn raises a brow at him, clearly accepting the challenge, “Didn’t I knock you against a wall, a couple weeks ago?

 _Alright, maybe he will smack him across the face._ Harry inches forward to shove that smug look off on Zayn’s face but his foot trips against the spine of the book that he forgot to pick up, launching his body even further as he collides with the raven haired lad. Zayn grabs him by his waist but the momentum being too much that they go off balance and fall backwards.

Louis sighs, touching his fingers to his temples, “You both are worse than school girls.”

Zayn huffs out a breath when the smell of vanilla engulfs him, Harry’s curls in his face. He looks down to find the latter’s face nestled in the crook of his neck, his hands on Zayn’s sturdy shoulders. For a second, they’re so close that you wouldn’t be able to untangle them. He can hear the low resounding whine which escapes Harry’s lips when he moves on top of Zayn.

Harry musters his stretch and lifts himself up on his elbows, Zayn’s breath hitches when he sees the dark green strip of silk, holding the his curls back. Zayn hadn’t noticed that but now that he’s looking, _actually looking_ , he can see the moss green of Harry’s eyes contrast perfectly with the cloth. Catching himself staring for too long, he breaks the silence, “By all means, please jam your knee into my crotch.”

Harry lifts himself up completely at that, his cheeks turning a pale pink as he sits on his knees. Zayn is sprawled out on the floor, looking a bit out of breath. He’s groaning lowly, face contorted into an expression of annoyance and pain.

He looks at his hands on Zayn before Liam’s voice calls out, “Harry?” 

All three of them glance at the Hufflepuff lad who doesn’t waste any time in running towards them, helping Harry up on his feet and extracting him from Zayn who were a tangled messed, a few seconds ago. His hand grabs Harry’s wrist, pulling him closer, “You okay?”

“Yeah, how’d you find me here?” Harry’s tone changes looking at Liam, his voice kinder.

“Niall said you might need some help,” Liam gives him another one of his crinkling smiles.

In a swooping sound, all the books from their desks move and raise up in the air before swiftly stacking in their respective shelves in a quick motion.

“No help necessary, Payne,” Zayn deadpans, putting away his wand. He looks at Louis who follows him out after giving Harry’s arm a squeeze accompanied with an apologetic smile.

“What’s his problem?” Liam utters, his lips forming a frown.

“Beats me,” Harry replies, walking up to pick up the book. The book is open, it’s Harry’s. The Herbology book. The last page resembling something close to a name which he has seen for the first time, in weeks of using it. Upon picking it up and examining the scrunched up letters, it spells ‘Doniya Malik.’

“That yours?” Liam asks, looking over his shoulder.

“You know her?”

“It’s one of Zayn’s sisters, isn’t it?”

Harry shrugs, clearly unaware of his person sharing their last name with his now arch enemy or whatever.

“How do you know Zayn’s sister, Li?”

Liam drapes an arm over Harry’s shoulder casually as they walk out of the classroom, “I don’t.”

Harry stops, turning to fully look at Liam. The latter looks back at him quizzically. Harry looks just as confused as Liam does, “Why would you send me these if you don’t know her?”

“Send you what?”

“You sent me- the books, Liam. And the other stuff-“

Liam cuts him off, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders, “Harry. What are you talking about?” And suddenly, Harry feels his knees buckle. Like the ground has been pulled from beneath his feet. He takes a deep breath in, looking down at the book and back at Liam who looks like he expects an answer to what is even going on. And Harry wants to ask the same thing. To himself, to Zayn. He sent Harry his sister’s books? And other- other things too? But why? But he’s just so- he’s so Zayn.

More than this realization, Harry feels guilty. And stupid.

He outright hated Zayn while using his things. His sister’s things, for fuck’s sake. And since when Zayn decided to have a change of heart.

“Harry?” Liam’s voice beckons him to reality.

He must’ve looked so dazed because the way Liam’s looking at him right now- but fuck, he can’t even think of anything. He opens the book again to check the name again. It’s still there. And he feels light headed again. His gaze happens to fall on the first floor corridor where Zayn and Louis are in conversation with another lad from Slytherin. All Harry can do is exhale all the tension he’s been suppressing for so long and look at Zayn exasperatedly.

“Yeah, uh, I-,” he gushes out, trying his best to smile reassuringly, “You go ahead, I’ll be right with you.”

Liam merely nods with a small smile and goes ahead with some of his friends from Hufflepuff. Harry turns his attention back to Zayn who manages to look cold and smug at the same time and it makes him roll his eyes but then he quietly scolds himself. After a few seconds, Harry joins Liam again, putting his wand away.

………..

“As there is little wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I can only attempt to teach you to brew glory in your cauldrons,” Professor Slughorn continues after letting the class know that he is taking over Professor Snape and will be the new assigned teacher for Potions.

Zayn is far from paying attention. He liked Snape; _prefers him_ , even. And sometimes, he likes to think that Snape hates him a little less than the rest of the class. Professor Slughorn seems like the kind of chap who would dote on students who serve him well.

“For today’s assignment, you’re going to pair up and in later classes, we shall venture on to making potions individually,” Professor informs, his hands clasping together. The class scurries, students partnering up and selecting a work station and a cauldron. It’s the last class on a lazy Wednesday afternoon and Zayn’s just going to let Louis take the lead on this one.

“Oi! The potion isn’t going to brew itself. Cut me some Fanged Geraniums,” Louis bosses and it makes Zayn roll his eyes but he isn’t exactly in the mood to ‘brew glory’ so, he does ask he’s asked.

Half an hour in, the Cauldron is simmering nicely. The ingredients are almost prepped and Louis’ eyes look bloodshot from the fumes coming out of the cauldron.

“Careful,” Louis shoots his hand quickly to grab Zayn’s, in an attempt to stop the latter from touching the piping hot cauldron. Zayn’s hand, as if having a mind of its own, stops before his fingertips ever touch the surface of the cauldron. Close one.

The potion they’re making, Veritaserum is a truth speaking potion which has loads and loads of ingredients that Zayn could never memorize, even if his life depended on it.

“Hey, you think about what present to give to El?” Zayn asks once they wait for the potion to turn mauve.

“Present?”

Zayn looks at Louis, unamused and waits for him to get it.

“Ah, fuck!” Louis exclaims, “I completely forgot it was her birthday.”

Zayn takes a seat on the high, wooden stool and takes his head on his hands, “How long have you been datin’ her, mate? What, three years now? And I still have to remind you her birthday.”

“Okay, don’t tell her that,” Louis lets out a laugh, staring into the space like he’s mulling over what to give her. His gaze sheepishly travel to Zayn, eyes suddenly pleading.

“No,” Zayn replies, “simply, no.”

“Please, I’m your best mate,” Louis begs. And he looks a bit ridiculous, really. The potion really messing his feathered hair which now looks like he has a bed head, eyes red and glassy. Zayn curses his pitiable heart.

“I’ll send her some flowers to start with,” Zayn thinks out loud, cutting up some leeches, “maybe some new shoes or something.”

Louis almost gallops at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders and squeezing the life out him, “You’re the best present giver.” Only it throws Zayn off his stool and the knife he’s chopping those leeches with, slices a cut on his index finger.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Louis steps back, eyes wide like he’s horrified. He looks around desperately to grab a cloth or cotton or something to wrap it up because Zayn is bleeding. But it doesn’t hurt. While Louis runs around like a headless chicken, all he can do is look at it bleed. There’s no pain, no sting. And he thinks he’s going proper mad when he sees the cut get smaller and smaller in size till it completely disappears on its own. The blood gone too.

“I got you-“ Louis comes back with some cotton, “where the fuck did it go?”

Discarding the cotton, he takes Zayn’s hand looking at it through and through. It’s not there anymore.

“How did you fucking do that?” Louis looks at him like he’s a crazy person when in fact, Lou looks far more deranged than he does.

“I didn’t,” Zayn mumbles, almost to him, his eyes quickly looking all over the room. Everyone seems to be focused on their potions. Strange.

They don’t realize how quickly the afternoon glow in the sky settles into a much darker shade, too immersed in the story Louis is narrating animatedly over dinner, surrounded by Theo, Blaise and Aiden. Zayn lets out a throaty laugh, easy conversation just pouring in the Great Hall. They’re over at the Slytherin table and he realizes that it’s been a while since he has finished his dinner.

Stretching his back, he lets out a quiet yawn and gets up from the table.

Aiden looks at him, a lopsided smile plastered on his face from pitching into the conversation every now and then.

He just mouths the word ‘tired’ with a pleased look and pats Louis in the back in order to bid him goodnight before making his way out of the Great Hall.

There’s the usual buzz in the air, crowds of students at their respective house tables or coming up to the Hall. They give way when Zayn walks down the stairs, not even meeting his gaze. And he’s used to it. Used to being talked about, the nervous disposition of people when they’re around him. It makes him feel a certain way now. Like, he’s not someone they want to trifle with.

In the midst of the staircase though, there’s an all too familiar mop of curls. Zayn ignores the irritation that creeps up after having spotted the boy who is engrossed in some book. He doesn’t pay heed and quickly makes his way down the stairs.

He stops. On second thoughts.

Making his way up to Harry, he clears his throat, fully expecting to be met with anger or something which fits their current dynamics. But Harry just looks surprised to see him.

“Can I sit?” he nods at the space beside Harry who takes a few second to process, looking at Zayn to make sure he actually means it and then finally, clears the space of his books and cloak, putting them on his lap.

Harry looks different now. Clad in a knitted sweater which extend upto his palms, hair loose and curls framing his face and he hasn’t pushed Zayn away so, he counts it as a win and sits down. They don’t speak much, it’s a new feeling to sit together without storms of anger forming inside. Zayn looks at his shoes then at Harry who keeps his eyes focused on the book.

“What do you have there?” Zayn breaks the silence, tilting his chin at the book.

“Um, it’s just a charms book,” Harry says while showing the cover of it to him. They don’t look at each other but when Zayn looks at the expanse of the stairs, at the students who are climbing up and going down, he notices a few eyes on them; girls whispering to each other with quiet laughs.

“You know many healing charms?” Zayn asks, the question sort of hangs in the air. Harry turns the page and his fingers tighten around the edge of the book, lips pressing together.

“Wouldn’t know,” he gives Zayn a small smile, looking at him for just a second then turning away again.

Zayn’s voice softens, “You don’t?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because,” he turns to Harry, looking him straight in the eye before reaching out his finger to the pages of the book and sharply flicks it against the sharp edges, a straight cut forming at the tip of his finger from the self-inflicted paper cut. And as predicted, it heals in seconds without leaving a single trace of it ever being there.

Harry sucks in a breath, looking like he’s been caught stealing or something before finally giving in.

“It’s for minor injuries,” he mutters slowly to Zayn as if revealing a big secret, “so, don’t go around breaking any bones.”

Zayn looks satisfied, fighting a smile forming, “What else can you do, Styles?”

Harry looks at him properly, like he’s debating upon whether to entertain Zayn. He bites on his lower lip, thinking over it.

“You have a favorite flower?”

Zayn nods, “Peonies.”

The other lad looks at him teasingly as if to say, ‘really?’ which makes Zayn roll his eyes. He watches carefully as Harry waves his wand in a swift motion, his attention never wavering from the spell. And soon enough, a couple of pink and pale purple peonies sprout from the spine of the book.

“Alright, you like birds?” Zayn asks softly, in a tone laced with challenge. He’s been enthralled by the spells Harry could perform till now but it’s his turn. It’s only natural that Harry should know what he’s up against. He sees the other lad close the book and turn to him with interest.

“Dragons?” Harry teases with a dimpling smile.

Two tiny Swedish Short-Snout dragons fly above them, blazing fire with their breath.

“Shut up,” Zayn can’t help but laugh at the tiny dragons, “It’s close enough.”

With another puff of smoke though, there’s the sound of birds tweeting. When Zayn looks up, there’s two tiny birds circling in the air and one even flies to sit on his shoulder.

“They’re blue jays,” Harry tells him, smile still intact as he looks at Zayn with something like mirth in his eyes. He strokes the head of the bird with his finger who nestles into Harry’s hand. And it’s easy. For the first time, there’s no annoying or repulsive tension around them. It’s definitely a new feeling.

“I like them,” Zayn murmurs, a faint smile on his lips the whole time, “alright, can you do this?” He waves the wand at the dragons who turn into lethal Peruvian Vipertooth and Hebridean Black Dragon respectively. Sharp pin like protrusions along their spines.

Harry looks a bit unsure but not unkind, “Not a fan of dark magic.”

“Why is that?”

“Something about it seems,” he looks at his hands, trying to muster a word which won’t outright offend Zayn.

“Dangerous?” Zayn chimes, eliciting a nod from the other boy.

“Give me your hand,” he asks Harry who furrows his brows in confusion yet extends his hand out, “The Dark Arts are ever changing, varied and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many headed monster,” Zayn replies, casting a spell after which produces a small yet lethal looking hound with many heads on Harry’s palm.

“They’re not real,” he lets out, easing a rather tensed Harry.

“You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating and indestructible,” the hounds turn into the Peruvian Dragon then black smoke then an onyx Basilisk, “Your defenses must, therefore, be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo.”

Harry feels his heart thrumming inside his chest as each creature turns into a more lethal one, he’d feel uneasy but now, it makes sense.

“Remember your Boggart?” Zayn asks carefully, “It’s a dark creature fueled by your fear. So, the best way to defeat it,”

“Is to not be afraid,” Harry finishes, his gaze at Zayn is inexplicable but hypnotizing at the same time, “and evolve with its magic.”

Zayn licks his lips, a playful smile beaming on his face, “Exactly. You corner it, make it weak by being unafraid.”

They look at each other for what feels like a second too long before the Castle lights start flickering and dimming low enough to indicate that students must head to bed in half an hour. The trance is lifted and Harry looks down at his hand, the Basilisk poofing up in smoke. They don’t say anything again, for a minute or two. Harry’s fingers curl around his books in anticipation or nerves, he doesn’t know which.

“Mind if I walk you to your Common Room?” Zayn asks, carding his fingers through his hair.

Harry nods with a polite smile, gathering his things as they walk up the stairs. It’s nearly bed time but the Castle’s still alive with clamour, students looking at him tagging along with Zayn Malik. He doesn’t really know how to process it. Having seen three distinct facets of Zayn in a matter of weeks, doesn’t know which one to hold onto. The pliant, defenseless Zayn or the cruel, furious Zayn or this dragon creating, Dark Arts studying Zayn. Harry understands a bit, why people treat him the way they do.

He knows his magic, inside out. He’s still practicing, of course but he has clarity as to what magic is and how to use it. Can see why he’s going to be the Slytherin prefect next year. Hell, Harry feels a bit silly that he didn’t see it this way.

“I’ve never been to this part of the Castle,” Zayn muses, hands clasped behind his back as he takes in the moving paintings of valiant wizards hanging in the hallways to the Entrance of the Gryffindor Common Rooms.

Harry shrugs with a light, beaming smile, “I had never been to yours till I met you.”

The entrance is still a good two minute walk away, they change stairs as the previous set would’ve led to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“Hufflepuff Tower is conveniently nearby,” he comments, his nose in the air like he disapproves of the proximity. And of course, only Zayn Malik would disapprove of how the Hogwarts Castle is built, “Speaking of which, what’s the deal with you and Payne?”

Harry suddenly feels hot under the collar, clutching his books a little too tightly as they walk briskly, “What- me and- uh, Liam and I-“

He knows he must’ve come off as a blabbering idiot, mentally face palming himself. But then Zayn turns to him fully, his gaze not as condescending as before, “won’t last long.”

“Excuse me?” Harry sees Zayn walking forward casually and he has the nerve to tell Harry that he and Liam won’t last? He must look delirious as he speeds to catch Zayn’s pace, “What, why?”

They’re now at the Gryffindor entrance, the Fat Lady in the lavish picture frame comes to the front and sits on her chair, looking at them in a teasing way. She takes note of Zayn, especially.

“A Slytherin,” she gasps in delight and fervor. Zayn’s eyes light up with equal curiosity as he walks upto her, examining the frame she’s in.

“Indeed,” he says smoothly, a smirk forming on his face. His shoulders broad and proudly displaying the emblem of the dark green crest with a serpent. He looks too confident this late at night. Harry grabs his arm, demanding an answer.

“Well?”

Zayn’s attention drifts to Harry who looks a bit too frazzled by his prediction. It makes him almost roll his eyes. He pauses for a moment, looking into Harry’s eyes in the fire illuminating hallways, “Not obvious? Payne doesn’t push you enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this took me a few days to write. I really wanted to do justice to the zarry scenes. Can't believe 200+ people read it, it makes me so happy every day. Thank you for all the comments and kudos, let me know how you like this one. (:  
> 


	5. I'm the king of everything.

Sundays are often a minimal affair at Hogwarts. Especially Sundays like this one where it’s dark and gloomy and it’s been raining constantly with frequent lightning and thunder. It’s also one of Harry’s favorite days of the week because he can luxuriate staying in the bed past 9 AM. But today, he is woken up by the sound of loud thunder and he was too hungry to fall back asleep so, he waddles into the Great Hall for some late breakfast, pulling his sweater’s sleeves to cover his palms for some much needed warmth.

It’s late but it’s not that late, there’s many empty seats at the tables of every House. He knows Niall is still sound asleep and will be out till they practice their Quidditch today. A shudder runs through him when he even thinks of Quidditch in this weather; all he wants is to stay indoors, wearing his fuzzy socks and soft, soft sweats which hang low on his hips.

There’s hot chocolate poured in a cup when he sits at the Gryffindor table and he quickly wraps his palms around the warmth, a satisfied hum escaping his lips.

Taking a sip, the sweet chocolate melts on his tongue readily. Appreciating the much needed quiet morning, he curls up with the mug, the side of his forehead against the table. After a solid week of running around for classes and doing mundane homework, this morning is certainly well deserved. 

Harry jumps when he feels a hand on his back and shoots his head up to find Sophia Smith, the Captain of Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

“It’s just me,” she flashes him an easy smile before settling down beside him. He’s thankful that her voice is low and soft enough to blur into the quietness of this morning. The last thing he needs is any disruption to his haven.

“Very grateful that it’s just you,” he grins, taking another sip.

“Always this charming, eh?” shaking her head fondly at him, she gets to the point, “But listen, we need to talk.”

“About?”

“The Quidditch match. Seamus will be replacing you as a Chaser,” Sophia informs him.

Harry feels a mountain of relief, “I’m fine with sitting this one out, believe me.”

“Yeah, no. You’re still playing.” She bites a piece of her toast, a grin forming when she sees his face fall at the news, “But we’ve decided to bring you in as a Seeker.”

“What, why?” he grumbles, covering his face in his hands.

She laughs, rubbing his back as if to coax him to be a Seeker, “Because we’re playing against Slytherin and you know, Zayn Malik is their Seeker. Remember what happened to Seamus last season?”

He nods. _Harry does remember._ Had heard that once Zayn gave a glaring look at Seamus and he backed off from catching the Snitch. And in another match, he shoved Seamus so hard that he woke up in the infirmary a week later. Not just him but most Slytherins play a very intense game. It’s always a challenge playing against Slytherin and sometimes, Ravenclaw. Difficult to predict where it could go.

“It’s great that you’re setting me up for such violence,” he supplies cheekily, looking at her with a playful tinge of betrayal.

She rolls her eyes at him, “Well, he won’t do that to you. I saw you guys talking the other night. Aren’t you like, mates now?”

“Not really,” Harry says, shrugging his shoulders.

He had forgotten about that night after not seeing Zayn in the succeeding days. His fingers tighten around the mug as he remembers what Zayn told him about Liam. Who is he to go around making blanket assumptions, they’ve barely spoken to each other decently once. But Harry can’t help but feel a nagging fear in the pit of his stomach, that Zayn might be right. Spent a couple nights thinking if it was true and if it wasn’t, why it was affecting him this much.

She bats her hand, “I’m sure he won’t do that to you.” Quick to get up, she leaves before he’s able to protest further, “Thanks, Haz. See you on the pitch.”

Harry sighs as his gaze falls down on the hot chocolate and his half eaten buttered toast. He’s going to miss this so much.

Reluctantly, he finds himself in the Gryffindor Changing Rooms. Half hour before their team meeting, he figured he should get padded up and practice on his broom. Merlin knows he needs it, he’s been off of his broom for weeks.

At the other side of the pitch, there’s the Slytherin Changing Room.

“Half the team hasn’t even made it out of the bed, has it?” Luke says with a laugh, coming up behind Zayn.

He plasters a smile, shaking his head at Luke. Zayn’s always liked how capable the older lad is. Even with a spare glance at the team, he could tell you everything. Like he’s done this a thousand times over. Maybe that’s why Zayn admires him. They all do. Luke is pure Slytherin, in his sixth year and he’s the guy who gets things done.

“Heard they have a new Seeker,” he hears Luke murmur, who is looking out of the small window. When Zayn comes closer, he raises his brows in surprise.

“What do you see, Zayn?”

This is one of Luke’s favorite questions. He would ask this often when he’s in this zone of scrutiny, wanting to hear other’s thoughts as if it adds something to his own perception. Zayn doesn’t miss the way Luke is looking at Harry with utmost attention, like if he’d glance at Zayn for even a second, he’d miss something crucial.

“His balance is off,” Zayn begins, watching over Harry who breezes through the corner of the field with his broom, “Grip too tight, he’s afraid of falling.”

Luke’s blue eyes tear away from Harry and looks at Zayn, the corner of his lips quirking up, “Muggle.”

It’s Luke’s way of calling Harry ‘ordinary.’

 _Muggle, my arse._ Zayn wants to say but he bites his tongue. Harry is magic through and through and if he didn’t know he was a muggle born then Zayn would’ve never been able to tell. He has a way with magic, he’s careful with it. He reminded Zayn of himself the day he had Theo and Blaise practically off their wands. They’re cocky, though. Being pure bloods has made them take it for granted, has made them think that magic is subservient to them. Quite the contrary, magic is subservient to those who can contain it.

The room fills up with people who are languidly sneaking in and getting changed.

“Go easy on him, will you?” the older lad tells him, clasping his hand behind his back.

“Nope.”

Luke smirks, patting Zayn on the back, “Atta boy.”

In the next fifteen minutes, the whole team is set to go. It’s a practice match for the House Cup next month but it still matters. No matter how much Gryffindor changes their order is of little relevance to Zayn. He just has to catch the snitch then the game ends. And the sooner the game ends, he is out of this bloody rain and cold wind.

The Quidditch match requires seven players; **three Chasers** who will keep possession of the scarlet Quaffle which is a leather ball, **a Keeper** who will prevent the opposite side to make a goal, **two Beaters** who will bat the Bludgers towards their opponents and **a Seeker** who will catch the Golden Snitch. Catching it will give the House 150 points and end the game.

Professor Hooch, who is the flying instructor, ensures both Houses’ Keepers and Beaters are in their position. Aiden, who is Slytherin’s Keeper, is guarding the three Hoops.

Once Zayn is in the air with his broom, he catches Harry’s gaze for a brief second before the trunk is opened, whistles blow and the game begins.

The Quaffle is caught by Gryffindor players who are quick to pass it among them and are heading towards the three Hoops on Slytherin’s end to score a goal. But Harry can’t focus on any of that because the Golden Snitch spreads its wings and flies right in the middle of the pitch.

He leads forward, his broom swiftly flying towards the Snitch but Zayn is quicker to reach, making the Snitch fly upwards. They chase it together to the top of the clouds, both soaking wet. It’s so cloudy that Harry has trouble seeing anything, let alone the Snitch. He can’t even hear it amidst the grumbling of thunder. But then he hears a swift sound and when he looks over his shoulder, Zayn is flying towards him with an enormous amount of speed.

His eyes widen but his brain is quick to act, moving out of the way just in time before he nearly avoids a collision but the whole thing throws him off balance.

“Holy fuck,” he cusses as he tumbles, hands grabbing the broom tightly to avoid a fall. He didn’t know Zayn was this fast.

The Snitch gives both of them a hell of a time, Harry especially. He has never played in the Seeker position and Merlin only knows how Seamus managed to do it because one moment, he’s flying between the clouds and the next moment, he’s chasing it two feet above the grass.

And Zayn is relentless. He does not give a fuck whether he collides with Harry. Too quick to zoom past him every time while also not getting hit by the Bludger. They fly between the Ravenclaw tower, meandering in the air together.

The brooms fly so fast that Harry swears he can’t even feel his fingers anymore.

“Gryffindor scores another point, 50-20” announces the score keeper. And as soon as Zayn hears the score, he flies towards Harry, shoving him out of the way. This throws him off balance so much that Harry goes off his broom and takes a hard fall, his body rolling on the ground then skidding against the sandy surface.

Before he can even come to his senses properly, Zayn flies above him.

“Hope you ride Liam’s dick better than that,” he smirks at Harry.

“Fuck you, Malik,” Harry retorts as he gets on the broom quicker than he anticipated and gives Zayn a shove too, who looks like he’s fuming that Harry even dared to do so. They keep shoving and trying to push one another off the broom, the Snitch ever evading them.

Harry is unexpectedly really close to catching it, he flies to one end of the Quidditch pitch, his fingers nearly touching the Snitch before his broom is struck with the Bludger and turns the other way round, bumping into Zayn, who was flying right behind him.

Zayn huffs out a breath, groaning, “At least, Seamus knew what he was chasing.”

That sets Harry off, he’s practically boiling at the moment. So riled up that he gives Zayn a push and chases the Snitch faster than before. Zayn and he are almost at par now.

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?” Harry hits back, ducking to miss the Bludger. He’s more focused now, faster too. He moves with the Snitch, taking sharp turns along the Oval of the Pitch.

“Why do you have to be in my way?” Zayn knocks Harry off again only to get hit back with an equal force.

Below them, the Quaffle is passed between Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson who dodge Gryffindor players smoothly. However, they are halted in their efforts to score a goal by Niall, who is the Gryffindor Keeper. The few people in the crowd cheer at the splendid effort.

From the corner of his eye, Harry sees Zayn extending his hand out to grab the Snitch from the other end of the Pitch.

Now, it’s really upto the one who gets there faster.

Neither of them hesitate to go faster, eyes on the Snitch. It’s pretty neck and neck. Harry’s a millimeter away from catching it, when he is pushed out of the way by Zayn’s entire body then the next thing he knows, both of them are off their brooms before falling on the sand pit with a loud thud.

The collision leaves Harry a bit light headed but the whistle blows. As it turns out, Zayn had managed to catch the Snitch. The Slytherin end of the crowd erupts into a roar of cheers as the game ends.

Harry sees Sophia fly towards him and she hops off her broom, extending him a hand. He takes it, lifting himself off the ground.

“You did well, Harry,” she smiles at him kindly, lounging her arm around his shoulder as they walk back to the changing room.

“But we lost. The score was 70-40 but he bloody caught it. And he was so fast, Soph.”

She lightly chuckles at him, “You see what we’re up against? But no, it was good for your first try, Haz. You actually made us last twenty minutes more on the pitch than Seamus ever did.”

Harry looks like he’s got the wind knocked out of him. Eyes wide, curls matted to his forehead in a careless manner, his fingers pruned and soaking wet, his clothes messy and muddy. But he does not care. Zayn was better than him in every way. It’s not the loss that bothers him, it’s that he was completely unprepared and he under performed.

He swears he’s going to practice harder. 

…………

Muffling a yawn, Harry walks into the Great Hall for dinner. What was supposed to be a post Quidditch nap turned into four hours of sound sleep. He needed it after all that he went through and yet his whole body is still sore, aching in places where he bumped into Zayn or was pushed against the ground. Rough game.

It’s quite early for dinner, he notices as the hall is half empty. But his grumbling stomach hasn’t had food since the afternoon so, he’s just hoping for a quiet dinner and more sleep.

Someone draws a stool and sits beside him, pulling his attention their way. It’s Zayn Malik. He looks at him questioningly.

“Didn’t want to sit by myself,” Zayn shrugs, digging into the Yorkshire pudding.

And it’s quite a sight, Zayn Malik at the Gryffindor table. Even though they’re allowed to sit with their friends from different houses on Sundays, it’s unusual when Zayn does it. He has always stuck to his house and from what Harry knows, he hangs out with a few Ravenclaw students too but never Gryffindor. Of course, this draws in many eyes, people talking in hushed tones to which Zayn pays no heed.

Harry doesn’t know what to make of this, he never really knows what to do when it comes to Zayn. So, he keeps his eyes down and focuses on his pudding.

“What flavor is that?” Zayn asks, spooning a mouthful from Harry’s pudding and tasting it.

“Strawberry. What flavor is yours?”

“Strawberry,” Zayn grins, making Harry roll his eyes, “You were terrible today, I hated it.”

Harry snorts, “You weren’t exactly nice to me.”

“Do you expect me to shower you with petals?” he murmurs lowly, eyes gleaming teasingly as he eggs Harry on, “If you’re going to beat me, you’re gonna have to do more.”

“Alright, what should I do in Zayn Malik’s expert opinion?”

Zayn seems to take the bait, his lips quirking up in a faint yet imperious smile. It’s always kind of funny to Harry how much Zayn likes to be dotted upon. Even a back handed compliment only adds to his confidence. He’s arrogant but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be. He knows what he’s doing and how good he is at things. It has made Harry slightly jealous that Zayn seems to know things like the back of his hand; it sort of, motivates him to reach that level of self-actualization.

“Practice,” he says with a lopsided smirk.

“I’ll practice, alright,” Harry scoffs, fiddling with his spoon, dipping it into the pudding.

Zayn turns to him completely, a tantalizing smile on his face when he says, “The broom wants to go fast, it is steadier that way. I’ve never been hurt going all out. It’s just the hesitation that’ll kill you.”

“You should also be gentler in holding the broom, you tilt to the right a lot,” he goes on, brows furrowing as if he has analyzed Harry’s every move. It causes a flush of pale pink rise up to his cheeks to witness this level of scrutiny.

“I thought I was the enemy. Why are you helping me?”

“Maybe I’m deliberately deceiving you,” he snickers under his breath, taking another spoon of pudding.

“Maybe,” Harry replies with a slight smile of his own.

He didn’t realize how close they’re sitting to each other up until now. Zayn looks at him like he’s searching something in his eyes, transfixed. His eyes are light brown intertwined with golden specks, Harry’s never noticed that. For a moment, he swears he catches Zayn look down at his lips and his stomach flipping at the realization. They often have these moments where it’s quiet for a minute, none of them speaking but sharing a longing gaze; the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. 

But then Zayn’s gaze shifts behind at Harry and something changes, the vulnerability gone. Harry turns to find Niall behind up. He looks a bit taken aback to find Zayn at their table.

“Zayn’s here to gloat,” Harry flashes a dimpled smile at Niall who chuckles in return, “Zayn, this is Niall, my best friend. Ni, this is-“

“The fastest Seeker in Hogwarts,” the blonde lad grins, shaking Zayn’s hand.

“Don’t feed his ego, he has already majored in arrogance,” Harry laughs, shaking his head.

“Don’t listen to him,” Zayn looks way too pleased at the comment, nudging Harry slightly. The validation clearly has stirred him up, he's more receptive, shoulders broad, no longer having a slouched demeanor.

His eyes almost sparkle with hubris, “What about me being the fastest Seeker?”

Harry thinks he can’t roll his eyes any more at Zayn but luckily, they fall into an easy conversation. Covering the Quidditch match to classes and almost everything. It’s always easy when it comes to Niall who surprisingly speaks to Zayn like they’ve been mates forever. He’s glad that they don’t piss each other off unlike Liam.

He gives Zayn a look of concern when he finds the raven haired lad thumbing at his temples as if to soothe the pain.

“Headache,” Zayn musters, his lips pursing.

Harry lights up at that, shoving his hand down the pockets of his sweats. Zayn looks at him incredulously, his face contorting into a confused look at what Harry pulls out. He had been carrying the meds around since evening because he obviously caught a cold getting scuffled in the rain.

“Take these,” Harry hands Zayn a glass of water.

“What are these?”

“Aspirin,” he says easily, looking too delighted to have it on him.

“Muggle medicine but it actually works,” Niall chimes in with a half grin.

Zayn shares a quizzical look with Niall, glancing down at the two tablets in his hand, his head titled to the side like he’s never seen it before. Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t find Zayn’s childlike curiosity about two bloody aspirin tablets, endearing.

“Do you just happen to carry all the cures in the world, Harry?” Zayn looks amused, a hint of adoration reflecting in his eyes after he downs the meds.

“You should see his Potion bag. I swear, he’s Madam Pomfrey in disguise,” Niall interjects with his thick Irish accent, laughter laced in his words. Harry glares at the two of them as they high five each other and laugh at his expense.

Sundays are often a minimal affair at Hogwarts, often spent in the company of good friends and practicing Quidditch. Harry thinks he likes seeing Zayn like this, a pleased smile plastered on his lips. He scrunches his nose and laughs at Niall’s story, his chin resting on his hand. Zayn no longer seems elusive. What Harry and Zayn don’t realize is someone’s gaze on them at the end of the hall, _someone who is already distasteful of what’s been happening._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter, next update will be by september first week because i have some college stuff. what's a harry potter au without a quidditch match? (: also, any guesses as to who it might be in the last line? :D thank you so, so much for reading it, i love knowing that people like what i write.


	6. my tongue is a weapon.

Zayn has always liked duels in Charms class. Professor Flitwick just doesn’t seem to do them more often. There’s just something about the practicality of magic that reels him in and any chance to show what he’s capable of, is never a missed opportunity.

The rules of the Duel are simple: fight till disarmed of your wand.

But today, he’s bored of it already.

Cho Chang was the seventh student to be disarmed in the last three minutes. To be quite honest, he hates that some of them are not even trying. Because who would be disarmed by the typical disarming spell? Dean Thomas, that’s who. Zayn thinks he might catch a nap in the back seat of the class before it’s his turn or even Louis’. Or maybe, they both will face each other off. Yet again.

He even dozes off in his seat, properly shielded from the Professor’s eyes because a few students like to crowd and watch the duels. It’s a wasted effort.

“Expelliarmus!”

Zayn hears. It wakes him up from nodding off because it’s Louis who is making his way to the front space of the class after being called upon. He might as well watch it. After joining the mini crowd, he finds that the last spell was cast by Harry. He rubs his hand over his face, as though trying to remain awake. And before he knows it, he’s standing at the front of the crowd who look almost on edge as he is.

Professor is sat on his desk, overlooking the whole thing and more students have gathered around to witness it. It’s Louis Tomlinson up against Harry Styles. And Zayn’s not wrong when he thinks it could be interesting. The students cheer when Harry dodges Louis’ spells, a bit of bad technique but it works for him.

Louis looks fascinated, a mixture of surprise mixed with something pleasant. Like he wasn’t expecting Harry to last before him. And Merlin knows, Zayn wasn’t either.

This goes on for quite a few minutes because Louis is relentless like that. The lad can’t ever just give up but Harry’s putting up a tough fight too. So far, he has been defensive. Too defensive. When Harry had told Zayn about how he wants to use his spells to do good, it made Zayn scoff. _It’s just a duel, you’re not killing Voldemort, Harry._ So, it’s no surprise that Louis finally has a hold on him, Harry is one spell away from being disarmed.

“Nebulus,” Harry murmurs carefully, a stirring black fog casting out of his wand.

Zayn didn’t realize he was holding his breath. He had only talked about the spell with Harry a couple weeks ago, it’s beautifully and utterly a part of the Dark Arts. He didn’t know Harry could perform it until now.

“What are you doing, Haz-“ comes a whisper beside Zayn. It doesn’t shock him to know it’s a nervous Liam Payne, clearly attempting to stop Harry from using that spell. It’s not harmful, though. The fog only causes the opponent confusion, a cover for when you want to trick the opponent and they won’t see your spells coming.

“Don’t distract him, Payne,” Zayn hisses, knowing full well that spells like this need focus.

Liam frowns, “But he should be careful, he doesn’t know what he’s doing-“

“He knows,” Zayn murmurs, gaze set on Harry who takes a step forward and casts the black fog around Louis, the professor watching them intently, “I told him about it.”

Liam does a double take on Zayn, face illuminated with disbelief; evidently flabbergasted. He opens his mouth to say something but at that moment, Louis is disarmed. Zayn smirks, patting Liam’s shoulder once before heading to face Harry. 

The first few minutes, they go at it like they’ve stepped into the duel with an intent to kill each other. Every spell better than the last, more powerful. Harry’s really in his element. _Casting spells with such surety as if he’s the one who created them_. But Zayn’s never been one to hold back.

“Ventus!”

“Relashio!” Zayn casts the spell which causes an opponent to release the object they’ve been holding.

But not Harry, he so easily disregarded it with his wand. Fuck, Zayn thinks. He thought he was the one who could do magic. _Actually do magic_ and not just cast levitating spells. His chest is heaving after dueling for ten minutes straight. The fact that Harry is still standing there with his stupid wand in hand should’ve infuriated Zayn but it doesn’t.

Harry belongs there, defending Zayn’s spells and casting better ones in return. So much control over the wand, the perfecting of flicking the wrist just right so, it casts the spell better. He secretly hates that Harry might just end up being his match. A muggleborn going head to head with a pureblood. His dad would have an aneurysm.

But what distracts Zayn is the familiar sight of the green embroidery on Harry’s jumper. Now that the sunlight breaks in from the windows behind Zayn, he sees it clear as day.

 _ZJMalik_ embroidered neatly on the top left of Zayn’s- Harry’s jumper that Zayn gave him.

“Incendio!”

And the next thing Zayn knows is he’s been knocked off against the wall. He groans at the feeling of bashing his spine against the brick wall while the class gasps. But then, he sees a hand extended out to him. It’s Harry, looking too smug.

“I still have my wand, you know,” Zayn mutters, taking his hand and lifting himself up.

“Not for long,” Harry beams at him.

With the entire class looking at him, Zayn feels like it’s finally time to bring this to a close. He knows Harry’s tired, he’s been dueling for the past twenty minutes with other people. So, before Harry could cast another fucking spell, golden specks emerge from Zayn’s wand.

Harry is bound with invisible ropes which prevent him from moving. He struggles, trying to free himself but to no avail. Zayn walks up to him with a cocky half smile, taking pride in the way Harry writhes.

“You won’t be needing that, after all,” Zayn looks at him with delight, merely taking Harry’s wand away from his hand. And that’s how Harry’s disarmed.

It goes on for a few more minutes and Zayn’s getting bored of it already, having disarmed a couple of students within a matter of seconds. He catches a glimpse of Harry laughing with Liam Payne in the back before deciding to let Neville Longbottom disarm him. The Professor scolds him fondly over such an obvious defeat.

“You’re next,” he tells Liam with a cold gaze who looks at him with narrowed eyes but goes up for his turn anyway.

When he doesn’t occupy Liam’s seat but goes to sit beside Harry, sharing the small bench, he swears he feels Louis roll his eyes at him. 

Harry shifts, not expecting Zayn to sit next to him on the small bench with his arm around Harry draped so languidly.

“Did I nail your spell or what?” Harry’s lips stretch into a soft smile, not minding the lack of space.

Zayn snickers, pressing his cold hand against Harry’s cheek, “It was abysmal as always.”

Harry hisses at the cold, elbows Zayn without any heat behind it and carefully takes his hand, rubbing it with his own to warm Zayn’s hands. Zayn rolls his eyes, hitting Harry’s knee with his own before deciding to just hold his hand. And Harry lets him.

Harry’s talking to Luna about Herbology when he feels Zayn tugging at his hand to look at his rings. Specifically, the rose one. Without much thought, Harry slides it off his finger and offers it to Zayn before returning to his conversation with Luna. Zayn looks at the ring in his hand, he really likes it. And if he slides it on his ring finger, no one has to know.

“You’re wearing that on purpose,” Zayn muses softly when Harry turns his attention back to him.

Harry’s smile grows, dimples prominent, “Didn’t distract you long enough. Do you want it back?”

“Keep it on,” Zayn shakes his head with the tips of his lips quirking up, “It’s yours.”

Harry looks too pleased at that, nestling against Zayn’s side. And he doesn’t know why but Harry wearing the jumper that eases something for Zayn. How proud he looks to have ZJMalik written on it even though one would have to squint to see it. And it’s like the class fades away in the background once they annoy one another, laughing at meaningless things. That is until Zayn excuses himself to talk to Blaise.

After Harry finds Liam, he realizes that his wand was missing from when Zayn disarmed him. So, he goes up to ask for it.

“I heard you’ve been teaching Styles some spells,” Blaise’s voice low as he chuckles. Harry stops dead at his feet when he hears this.

“He wants to be one of us,” Zayn shrugs, a faint yet cold smile curving at his lips.

Blaise shakes his head, resting his elbow on Zayn’s shoulder with another mocking laugh, “Mudblood can only wish, right?”

Harry pales when he hears that word again. He searches at Zayn’s face who looks like he’s heard the funniest thing. _Aren’t you going to say something?_ He merely closes his eyes and sighs when he hears Zayn say ‘right’ back. What did he even expect? Liam thankfully, finds his wand and the class ends.

And that’s the last Zayn saw of Harry. It’s like he disappeared like a magic trick. Zayn didn’t think much of it because they only have a couple of classes together and Hogwarts is big enough that they haven’t run into each other properly till their fifth year. Until he found a familiar looking basket outside of his Common Room, addressed to him. He ignores the pang he feels in his heart when he sees _Standard Book of Spells 5 by Miranda Goshawk. Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard. And under it all, folded neatly was Zayn’s jumper._

Days pass by like water without even the faintest sight of Harry. Of course, he sees him in classes but never outside of it. Not even the Great Hall. Sometimes, he thinks he had imagined their conversations. It’s a bit cruel, if you ask him. He had really thought they were on talking basis. But apparently, not. He shakes his head as if that’ll get rid of the thoughts, inching back to rest against the headboard; the time on the clock now a mere suggestion to sleep. 

“Maybe he is scared of you,” Louis supplies, popping a piece of bread in his mouth the next afternoon.

It had almost been two weeks since that Charms class and of course, Louis being as nosey as he is noticed Zayn had been sulkier than usual. Sulkier, it makes Zayn scoff.

Truth is, they’ve all realized that something is off with Zayn. He has been having trouble sleeping a few nights, a tad slow at regular things, even messed up at one of the practice Quidditch matches. So, it’s obvious that Louis would forcefully insert himself into the situation, trying to salvage it.

“He wasn’t afraid of me this whole time but one day, he suddenly decides he is?”

Louis shrugs, his brows furrowing like he’s actually thinking about it, “Maybe you should be more like, what’s the badger’s name-“

“Liam Payne,” Zayn spits out.

“Him,” Louis accepts, looking mischievously at Zayn, “Be more like him. Less intimidating and what not.”

“Intimidating?” Zayn rolls his eyes, taking the bait.

Louis eyes trail down Zayn’s clothes. Zayn purses his lips and looks down as well. He’s dressed in the finest pair of trousers which his father had tailor made it for him at Diagon Alley, a white shirt upon which he’s wearing his Slytherin jumper which may or may not have been imported from Wales. Maybe. Okay, it was. So, what if he doesn’t look like the friendliest of the lot?

Then both of them look at Liam Payne who is sat not far from them because the Hufflepuff table is nearby Slytherin at the Great Hall.

He’s all grins, laughing and patting his mates on the back. Payne though a pureblood, comes from a large family of Hufflepuffs. His father working at the Ministry of Magic meant he was not of common dwelling; yet, a far cry from who Zayn is. He briefly wonders what Harry sees in him. Payne’s always too cautious, too fucking good for his own taste. It wouldn’t surprise Zayn to know that he would’ve never taken a chance at anything in his life.

Is it the carefulness that Harry liked? Zayn is careful too, he interjects his own line of thoughts. It’s not like he gets into fights or bullies people around like Theo and Blaise. He has always been careful to study and ace exams because he has to make his family proud of him. Especially, his father. He has been careful towards his sisters, his friends.

Maybe Zayn’s too calculative. Too far reaching. He glances down at himself again, jaw set tight like a wounded lion. He lifts his head up, dismissing any further thoughts. He is Zayn Malik, for fuck’s sake. It isn’t upon a muggle born to tell Zayn who he was or how he were to act like. If Harry didn’t like who he was, then tough. Zayn wasn’t going to change himself overnight to become a fucking Payne.

Zayn makes an unamused face, downing the last of the cranberry juice, “I’m Zayn Malik. Anyone else is a waste of time.”

“Maybe it’s a muggle thing then, you twat,” Louis supplies, hoping to lighten the mood as the make their way out of the Great Hall.

“Probably,” Zayn perks up before running into someone, “Fuck, are you blind?”

He curses, instantly grabbing the student- Dean Thomas, by his collar. When Zayn hears Louis call his name, he spots Harry by the staircase. It dawns on him what it all looks like. Zayn slamming Dean Thomas against the Great Hall door with a fistful of his collar, people whispering amongst themselves. Harry has this unreadable expression on his face though his eyes look like he expects better from Zayn. Before Dean can utter more apologies, Zayn sets him down.

Clearing his throat and running a hand to smooth the other lad’s collar, “Sorry, lost my temper.”

“No, it’s completely my fault. I’m so sorry,” Dean panics, going off on a string of apologies. Probably because he fears Zayn would deck him in the face next but Zayn just shakes his head and strides past the prying eyes, heading for his Common Room.

_“Gentle,” Harry murmurs, a slight frown tugging at his lips._

_“I am being gentle,” Zayn huffs out, setting his wand down in frustration._

_They’re sitting in the middle of the staircase which leads to the Gryffindor Common Room. It has less people around, quieter and they’ve been meeting here one too many times for Zayn to remember. He has insisted that Harry teach him the healing spells he had used on him the night of the incident._

_“You’re not being gentle enough,” nags Harry, giving him a light push by his shoulder, “Healing charms aren’t like other spells. They work better if you cast them with careful consideration.”_

_Zayn merely shoots him a glare. He doesn’t know how fucking more gentle he can get before Harry places his hand on top of his, clutching Zayn’s wand. He looks at Zayn for a beat to settle the nerves and Zayn nods to show that he’s ready._

_“Episkey,” he casts the spell, Harry’s hand carefully flicking the wand around the scratch on Zayn’s arm. It was the slightest movement of the wand or a great deal of concern coming from Harry over a tiny scratch, Zayn doesn’t know which- but it fades into thin air. Heals itself._

_“Yeah, I could never be that gentle.”_

_And Harry lets out a laugh, shaking his head._

“Ah, fuck,” Zayn says to no one in particular. It’s a little past midnight and he curses that even his dreams now have been corrupted with a curly mess of head. He doesn’t know why exactly he can’t seem to let it go. Kind of hates that he’s becoming obsessed with it. It’s not the leaving which bothered him. No, many people have left Zayn before. His past relationships or friendships which faded away because he merely outgrew them, he has come to terms with it. It’s the leaving without a reason that bugs him. It eats away at him like a missing puzzle piece.

Was it something he did? Said? Did he come off too strong?

Even then, curiosity would’ve died by a week. It wouldn’t have lasted this long. This was something else. He felt like he was missing something. Nothing turned him upside down like losing Harry Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I have written the next chapter too, I'll be uploading it later tonight. (: let me know how you like this one.


	7. if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mentions of blood. Not too much. I've only said the word like three times but still, trigger warning.

After a night of getting some decent sleep, it got better. Zayn no longer felt the need to keep listing things which must’ve drove Harry away. He felt more like himself, figured it was best to give Harry some space. Had also considered to forget Harry altogether but that was just him being spiteful.

There he was, sitting beside Theo and Louis in Divination. For some reason, he couldn’t focus on the class. Too occupied with his new found clarity. There’s a lot Zayn Malik was capable of; using the memory loss spell was not one of them. After all, Harry only brought good things in his life.

He has been more conscious of his volatile temper after that Great Hall incident. No longer feels the need to pick up fights but if he uses his spells to move people away when they’re in his way, it’s purely for their own good. He has also been mindful of doing his share of chores like making his bed. Because-

_You have elves make your bed? Zayn, they’re overworked like hell._ Of course, leave it to Harry to care about how much work the house elves are doing.

Zayn looks out the window, catches himself wondering what Harry must be doing. And if Harry could hear him, he’d say that maybe our finger prints don’t fade from the lives we’ve touched.

“Z, Aiden and a couple others want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, you wanna come?” Theo asks him discreetly.

“Don’t we have an essay due next week?”

“Why don’t you invite me? I’ll go,” Louis whisper-yells from beside Zayn.

Theo chuckles under his breath, “Don’t you have some sucking up to do with Eleanor?”

“She loves me, she’ll understand,” Louis grins.

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Let me guess, she found out your presents were actually my presents?”

Theo cracks up at that, “Why does she even date you, mate?”

“We should actually ask her that,” Zayn agrees in a teasing tone.

“You will do no such thing,” Louis begins, hitting them both at the back of their heads, “We’re going out this weekend. Merlin knows Zayn needs it.”

Zayn raises his eye brows, turning to Louis, “Do I, now?”

“Ever since you got your tiny Slytherin heart broken. Here, make yourself useful, fold this into a paper plane,” Louis slides him paper.

When Theo and he are busy making paper planes, he catches a glimpse of that rose ring. 

They don’t have any classes after this, basically a free morning. And if Louis’ plans involve wreaking havoc in Divination, Zayn would gladly be a part of it. Maybe things are getting back to how they were supposed to be.

“You’re lucky you didn’t take Ancient Runes,” Louis groans.

“I told you not to take it too,” Zayn snickers, sending him off to the class.

He can’t stop looking at the ring. Even if it has gotten better, he’d still like to talk to Harry. For closure or summat. _Would be really nice to see him too._ He files that thought away.

“Avenseguim,” he casts the locator spell on the rose ring. It’s a spell which his mum had taught him for when he’d get lost as a kid. He could cast it on anything which belonged to his mum and the spell would help him locate her. Zayn fully expects the ring to lead him to some class or even the Gryffindor tower but is confused when it leads him to the Clock Tower on the third floor.

It’s one of the lessor known parts of the Hogwarts Castle but Zayn’s been there before. For a second, he thinks the spell must’ve been cast wrong because why would anyone be here during class hours. But then he sees it.

The huge arch window through which the sunlight beams and falls straight on the floor. Tall ceiling, an enormous pendulum shaped dial of the clock. There is chirping of birds around the room. _Blue jays._ One even comes to sit on Zayn’s shoulder like before. He feels his heart thrum again when he walks past the pendulum to see a mop of curls, sitting by the window. The sunlight bringing out the inherent brown tint of his hair. And surely enough, there he is. With his brows furrowed as he reads from a book, taking down notes with a quill.

But then Harry looks up, his eyes wide like he has seen a ghost. He stands up when he sees Zayn take a step forward.

“Harry, can we talk-“

“Protego maxima,” the brunette lad casts the shield charm, effectively preventing Zayn from coming any closer.

Knowing Zayn, it takes him a second to ignore the immediate boil of anger fuming at the pit of his stomach. He swallows his pride with it too, casting a destruction charm on the invisible wall.

“Don’t run away from me,” he manages to catch hold of Harry’s arm, holding it against his back so that it propels Harry against Zayn.

“Let go of me,” Harry tells him sternly.

Now that Zayn finally has a chance to confront him, he feels at a loss of words. He can only look at Harry with this longing and pain in his eyes. Harry looks as good as the day he had met Zayn. But the anger flashing on his face is so out of place, so unlike him.

“You disappeared,” Zayn winces as how pained that came out.

Harry struggles to get himself free from Zayn’s grip but to no avail so, he slumps his shoulders in defeat. His gaze away from Zayn like he can’t even look at him.

“Yeah, well I don’t know if you’ve heard but a mudblood like me can only wish to be like you,” Harry finally gives away.

It takes Zayn a second to make sense of it, his breath hitched when he finally realizes it. He feels like someone has shot him or something because his knees feel weak, his balance staggering. Holy fuck. He has to remember to kill Blaise.

“Harry- I- Harry, you know how dumb Blaise is,” Zayn explains in a panic.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Harry looks at him morosely, “You just stood there while he- doesn’t matter.”

Zayn groans lowly in frustration, running his free hand through his hair. He hadn’t realized that Harry was listening. Even if he wasn’t, he’s right. All Zayn could do was act like a proper dick.

“I messed up, I’m so sorry,” Zayn licks his lips, disappointed with himself, “It just- it didn’t- it was a joke, I didn’t take it seriously. You know how it is with them, they’re dickheads and that’s no excuse but please. You just- I’m so sorry.”

Harry just shakes his head, “I’m just so tired of feeling stupid, Zayn. You hate me, you talk to me then you go ahead and talk shit about me.”

Zayn loosens his grip on Harry’s arm, goes to grab his hand instead. They’re not at each other’s throats or resisting one another. Perhaps feeling too defeated.

“Harry, I’m really sorry. Look- can you please, look at me?” Zayn murmurs, his hand on Harry’s cheek, “I admit I was wrong to have agreed with him but I’ve never fucking believed that you couldn’t be as good. It was just a stupid thing he said and I didn’t want him to ask questions but fuck, Harry. Ask Louis, Liam, anyone. I’ve always felt that you were so amazing. Even when Luke dismissed you, he was so wrong-“

“I was wrong?”

Both Zayn and Harry turn to look the source of that chilling voice. And if things couldn’t get worse, they just did. Luke Hemmings was standing at the entrance of the room, his icy gaze over them. Zayn quickly turns to him after immediately hiding Harry behind himself.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Zayn squares his shoulders, wary of every movement of the older lad.

“I couldn’t help but wonder what you were doing at the Clock Tower,” Luke steps forward towards them, his hands clasped behind his back, “I’m sorry but aren’t introductions in order?”

“He doesn’t want to meet you,” Zayn replies, tightening his grip on Harry’s wrist who merely peers over Zayn’s shoulder in inquisition.

“Oh, cmon. It’s not like you’ll actually go against me to side with the mudblood, are you?”

Before Harry could say anything, Zayn beats him to it, “Don’t use that word.”

“Ah, I always knew you were tough to tame. Never realized you were this disloyal too,” Luke’s words come out too harshly, “If you know what’s good for you, leave. I wish to speak to him- stupefy!”

And that’s the thing about Luke, he attacks when you least expect it. Zayn is knocked aside by the spell, wanting to stand up but his legs fail him. Luke clutches Harry’s collar who struggles in turn. He looks unforgiving, Harry thinks. There’s no sign of any warmth in his eyes, just disdain.

“You have this strange habit of always being in my fucking way,” he raises his voice, slamming Harry against the glass window a bit too hard. Harry yelps at the sharp pain from hitting his head.

“I beat him up and you have the audacity to undo it?”

“It was you?” Zayn’s eyes widen in surprise.

“It had to be done. You needed a fucking lesson after costing me that House Cup last year,” Luke shouts, his jaw tensed, “And you. You’re a filthy mudblood, you know that? I finally thought I had gotten rid of you but Malik over here just can’t let go, huh?”

Harry flinches at his words, his eyes are starting to water once Luke grabs his wrist. A burning sensation coursing through his skin immediately. He falls to his knees in pain.

“Get away from him,” Zayn tackles Luke to the ground. Harry tears his gaze away from the burn marks on his wrist before quickly scampering for his wand.

“Confrigo!”

Bouts of sparks emerge from Harry’s wand, injuring Luke. It only seems to anger him more as he pushes Zayn away with an unfounded strength, casting a pain curse on Harry who inhales sharply, unable to move. Pain courses through his veins, rendering him defenseless.

“You fucking menace, look what you’ve done. Managed to turn a pureblood into a disgrace. I should get rid of you once and for all.”

Harry closes his eyes shut before he hears the curse directed at him.

“Sectumsempra!”

A noise of someone falling to the floor makes him open his eyes again. A nasty feeling at the pit of his stomach when he sees Zayn on the floor who had managed to launch himself at Luke during the curse. Who had managed to get cursed. Harry rushes over to him, Zayn’s white shirt soaked in gushing blood.

“Zayn-“ Harry’s voice trembles when he sees his unconscious body. He frantically looks around for his wand.

“Vulnera Sanentur,” his voice is small but he casts it louder again. He casts it over and over, chest heaving and eyes watering again. Luke has fled and the last he had known, Professor McGonagall had caught him but it doesn’t matter now. He wishes Zayn would open his eyes or say something annoying again but alas, only his blood pools at Harry’s feet. Harry’s shaking so badly as he casts every fucking healing charm known to him.

Feels a lump in his throat, a pulsing pain his heart, “No, no, no- please, Zayn. You can’t do this to me, please- I-“

He stops to see his vision blur with tears, when he looks at his hands, it’s covered in blood. Harry feels lightheaded, like he can’t breathe anymore and the last thing he sees before collapsing is Louis with Professor McGonagall.

……….

Zayn wakes up a week later. He opens his eyes to find Louis and Aiden sitting next to him.

“You bastard!” Louis yells. Zayn flinches at the tone.

“Louis, shut the fuck up,” Aiden scolds him with a glare.

It takes a few seconds for Zayn to blink and drift in and out of consciousness as he begins to register where he is. He feels a dull pain all over his body like he’s sore. Seeing Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall rush to him with Blaise and Theo in tow, he looks around the infirmary gingerly.

A nurse helps him to sit up with quite a lot of effort and offers him some water.

“Mr. Malik, how are you feeling?” Professor McGonagall looks concerned.

“’M fine, where’s Har-“

“He’s okay,” Louis assures him, sitting next to him. Zayn looks around but he doesn’t find Harry anywhere. His hands rest on his stomach which is now bandaged.

“Mr. Malik, Luke Hemmings was expelled from Hogwarts for using an unforgivable curse. You have no idea how delighted I am to see that you’re recovering,” McGonagall says.

“Good riddance, honestly,” Louis places his hand on Zayn’s arm with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, mate. We got there as soon as we could but you had already gotten hurt,” Aiden explains, looking guilt ridden, “We caught the fucke- Luke, though.”

Shortly after the Professors leave, Zayn finally processes what happened. He had leaped out to protect Harry from a curse. A curse, for fuck’s sake. A fatal one at that. Sectumsempra being an unforgivable curse meant cuts which couldn’t heal forever. But here he was, recovering from it.

“Harry passed out next to you. Apparently, after casting a fuck ton of healing spells,” Louis interrupts his train of thought.

They both take turns to explain what went down after the incident. Luke was caught by Professor Snape while Zayn and Harry were carried to the infirmary. The Head Master had expelled him immediately after he was caught using a curse against a student. They had also informed Aiden to let Zayn know that other students shouldn’t hear about this incident and certainly not about the curse. Harry had spent three days in the infirmary, Niall and Liam by his side. He had also come to visit Zayn when he made sure no one was around, asked Madam Promfrey to take utmost care.

Zayn’s lips downcast into a frown after listening to all that. He hadn’t had the time to process all this. He also told Aiden and Louis that the night he got hurt, it was Luke. They both were surprised, spilling curses at the lad. Calling him fuckin’ mental. But then Zayn’s eyes fall on the bunch of flowers growing by his bedside.

“Are those-“ Louis asks in confusion.

Zayn gently touches the petals which make the flowers bloom with a chuckle, “Fucking peonies.”

After a whole night of resting and taking even more meds, Zayn is discharged. And the first thing goes to look for is Harry. He spots him standing in one of the empty corridors, looking out the huge archways as the cold wind blows. A series of emotions wash over him. Relief, adoration, happiness and finally, anger. When Harry sees him standing at the end of the corridor, he takes a step back.

“If you run away again, I swear, I’ll curse you myself,” Zayn warns, clutching Harry’s arm, “How come you don’t even show up at the hospital when I was awake but you manage to grow fucking peonies by my bedside?”

But Harry isn’t resisting Zayn’s touch, looks like he’s pleasantly surprised to see him alive. Zayn grabs his hand, resting it against his own cheek after placing a hand on Harry’s hip. Harry runs his thumb over Zayn’s cheekbone, the latter can only lean into the touch. Zayn steps forward, crowding Harry against the brick wall, he briefly glances over Harry’s lips before leaning in.

“Zayn,” Harry mutters, placing a hand on his chest to stop him, “Please don’t.”

“Harry- I can’t help it. I’ve loved you even before I knew I did and you wouldn’t let me but now I’m going to make you hear and give me an answer because I can’t go on like this any longer,” Zayn pleads, his eyes desperate, “I’ve worked so hard on myself and I gave up being quick tempered and everything you didn’t like and waited and never complained, hoping you’d come back though I’m not half as good as Liam-“

“Yes, you are. Don’t say that, you don’t have to be like Liam. I’m so grateful and so happy that you’re okay and not lying in that hospital bed anymore but I can’t,” Harry gets out, both his hands now against Zayn’s face.

“But you love me, don’t you?”

Harry exhales a heavy sigh, nodding slowly, “But I can’t be with you, I can’t do this.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because it’s my fault. I hurt you and you got cursed trying to save me,” Harry looks at him helplessly, his face contorting into a pained expression, “I’m just a muggleborn.”

“Are you ser- Harry, Luke was a deranged lunatic. He hurt me because of his twisted thing, it had nothing to do with you. And I don’t regret anything, I would’ve still saved you because I knew you’d save me back,” Zayn rests his forehead against Harry’s temple, his lips ghosting over Harry’s cheek, “I don’t care what you are, I love you.”

Harry leans back into him, the familiar warmth and the smell of citrus shampoo mixed with subtle cologne. He would’ve laughed at the situation, a month ago. Was planning to have a good year, delve more into magic and maybe go out with Liam while Niall takes the piss but here he is in some empty corridor with Zayn Malik whispering things against his skin and loving him. It all seems like an elaborate hallucination.

He looks at the boy before him, at how much things changed from his previous ‘plan.’ How different hazel eyes are from the brown ones he used to long for. How it isn’t the warmth of Hufflepuff radiating but the pride of Slytherin. Zayn hardly looks like he was in the hospital for a week. His shoulders broad, jaw tilted up like his arrogance won’t let him second guess himself. Harry’s always going to roll his eyes at that. Except now, he just looks fond. And maybe, Zayn’s courage overwhelms him but he takes a step forward, no longer afraid and slouched.

“I love you too,” he whispers back with a faint smile before he turns into a laugh because Zayn wastes no time in pulling him in for a kiss.

“You’re so annoying,” Zayn murmurs against his lips, laughing and tightening his arm around Harry’s waist to pull him closer.

“Last time I checked, I saved your arse,” Harry whispers back, gliding his lips against Zayn’s more fervently, tangling his fingers into the raven locks.

“Remind me who got cursed again,” Zayn teases, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

That night, like many other nights, Zayn offers to walk Harry to his Common Room. It’s definitely something Harry would take time to get used to. Maybe it’s the way Zayn would meet him discreetly after dinner and lace his fingers with Harry’s when no one’s looking or maybe it’s when he pulls Harry close to him and makes sure he’s warm. They decided to keep it between themselves for now, there will be a lot of time for when their friends want to tease them about it. They don’t have to hear it today.

The Fat Lady gasps in delight when she sees Zayn again, coming back to the front of the painting to sit on her chair, guarding the Gryffindor Common Room Entrance.

“’M afraid, you’ll be seeing me a lot more,” Zayn tells her with a smirk. She looks at him in confusion, a glass of wine in one hand, to this he only answers by kissing Harry straight on the lips. Because Zayn Malik is unabashed and a cocky asshole like that.

Harry looks at him unamused.

“What, you’re going to nag me even after I’m your boyfriend?”

“Can’t imagine a day I won’t,” Harry grins at him, shrugging his shoulders.

Zayn rolls his eyes, gestures at the Fat Lady like ‘can you believe him?’ Harry whines, giving him a light push but Zayn just pulls him closer by his hand, bidding him goodnight.

“I can’t go if you don’t let me go inside,” Harry lifts his hand up with a laugh, showing how Zayn is still holding it.

“I don’t want you to go,” Zayn tells him lowly, an adoring yet teasing smile tugging at his lips, “You think I can get past her?”

“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Malik,” the Fat Lady warns him with a scoff, cueing that he return to the Slytherin dorms. They both erupt in laughter amidst a few more kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's finally done. (: but no, the fic isn't completed yet. I want to write a couple more chapters purely and shamelessly about Zarry but yeah. Hope you like. (: Thank you so much for finding the time to read this, I've learned a whole bunch by writing this fic. It takes a lot of hours to do editing and change plots like, ten times already. But so worth it. So, thank you again for sticking with me throughout this. (:


	8. perfect places.

If knowing Zayn Malik was an experience, falling for him was a whole new level of insanity that Harry dipped his toes into. He’d have never come to terms with his feelings until those four days he spent resting in his dorm while Zayn’s unconscious body lay in the hospital.

He had gone from helping Zayn to hating him to being friends-ish to feeling stupid in a matter of a couple months. It’s wild that he never noticed his feelings before. Or maybe he did but chose to ignore it. Zayn made him feel so much more than what he thought his heart was capable of. He felt admiration when he was being taught Dark Magic, felt longing whenever they fell into a comfortable silence, awkwardness practically dripped out of thin air when they first tried talking to each other civilly.

He had gone to visit him one night after dinner too, making sure no one was around except the nurses. Seeing him all bandaged up flooded memories of when Harry’s hands were- okay, he took a breath. Not going to think about that.

With another shaky intake of breath, he had sat down on the chair next to the bed.

 _Was I, a second too late with the spell? Could I not fix you this time?_ His mind had traveled to some of the ugliest thoughts. _Would you please wake up and tell me how bad I cast charms?_

He couldn’t help but extend his hand out; careful fingertips grazing Zayn’s palm. His hands trembled as he held Zayn’s. His brows scrunched up when he felt a cool, metal sensation. _The rose ring._ His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he swallowed his grief which threatened to well up in his eyes.

He had been so wrong all this time.

Zayn had managed to push him more than anyone ever did. He didn’t care if it was too much on Harry because Zayn knew it wasn’t. Harry hadn’t grown up with magic but that’s why he was here, wasn’t he? To learn, to consume it so that it becomes a part of him. And Zayn, stupid, cocky, stupid Zayn helped him with that and got cursed. A life for a life.

Harry’s grip on Zayn’s hand grew tighter. Something inside him told him that he wasn’t late. Zayn would wake up, he would get better. Harry had managed to overcome the curse. He had to, he had to, he had to. Because even if the sky falls, there’s nothing that he wouldn’t do for Zayn.

Pulling him out of his reverie, two arms wrap around his waist from behind. He purses his lips together to hold back a smile as he puts the book back into the shelf of the library.

Harry could recognize him by touch alone and when Zayn nestles his face in the crook of his neck, he is enveloped by the familiar musk. Harry would know him blind, by smell. And by the way Zayn takes a deep breath, Harry would know him in death, at the end of the world.

“Is that your cologne or firewhiskey?” Zayn murmurs against his skin as he presses faint kisses on his neck.

Harry snorts, elbowing him gently in the ribs, “It’s jerk repellent but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

Zayn turns him around by his hips, sporting an amused look, “I’ll actually recommend a jerk repellent.”

And he knows what Zayn’s talking about. It’s been two weeks or so since they’ve been together. Always dancing around for the right moment to let their friends know but it never seems right. Somehow, it all feels like a bizarre situation of how they came to date. It is bizarre, alright.

He hadn’t missed the way Liam would be at the receiving end of Zayn’s temper, whenever he got close with Harry. But something had shifted between him and Liam, though. As if they both had realized that it was better being friends. And Liam had been seeing Sophia Smith.

But that doesn’t stop Zayn from casting a spell (not so) discreetly when Liam’s hand was on Harry’s back. The Hufflepuff lad had frowned, not knowing what caused him to feel a sudden jolt when he had touched Harry. Or the time when Professor Snape was called into the Headmaster’s Office so he left Zayn in charge of the class temporarily. He had used it as an excuse to “oversee” Harry’s work. Meaning it was just Zayn touching Harry or grabbing his butt.

“He doesn’t like me like that, babe,” Harry drawls, leaning in to press a kiss to Zayn’s lips.

“I was right _there_ , Haz,” Zayn scoffs but his lips contort into a frown, “You’re supposed to be mine.”

Harry grabs his tie, nuzzling closer to him with a lopsided smile, “I am yours. And you are mine. Mind, body and scheme.”

Zayn barks out a loud laugh at that, quickly slamming a hand to shut his mouth. They’re meeting in the middle of book shelves in the library, for Godric’s sake. Harry would’ve said something but he is interrupted by a sneeze. Luckily, he carried tissues. He had hoped he wouldn’t fall sick after dropping Niall at the train station who went to visit some family. And it had also been raining the whole week.

“You coming down with a cold?” Zayn smoothes a hand down his back, a flash of concern on his face, “Put your arm around my—“

Grumbling, Harry just rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Or just fall on me, that works too,” he snickers, “Niall’s not around, right?”

Harry shakes his head but actually, it just looks like he’s rubbing the tip of his nose on Zayn’s neck, “Liam’s in Hogsmeade too.”

“Why don’t you come sleep with me tonight? I have something that’ll get rid of your cold.”

Harry lifts his head, raising his brows, “I can do that?”

“According to the rules? No,” Zayn’s lips stretch into a grin, “According to me? Yes.”

He looks at him in confusion before Zayn shakes his head and leads them out of the library. It’s dinner hours, people are bustling in the Great Hall. Harry had eaten out with Niall and Zayn had an early dinner with Louis who is probably stuck to Eleanor’s side by now.

Zayn easily makes his way down the stairs, the crowd parting around him to give him way. When he looks back, he remembers Harry’s down with a cold and is muttering apologies with a light smile as he makes his way past people and descends down the staircase. Once they both are near the Slytherin dungeons which is located way below the ground floor, Zayn pulls Harry into an empty hallway.

“Here, put this on,” his fingers curl at the bottom of his Slytherin jumper, pulling it over his head and handing it to Harry whilst maintaining a watchful gaze around.

Harry accepts because he is cold. Once the Slytherin jumper on, Zayn looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

He pushes a curl away from his face, feeling shy, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I really wish you weren’t sick,” Zayn cups Harry’s face in his hands, pulling him in for a kiss. And _oh_. He’s already being pushed up against the wall as the kiss turns a bit heated.

“You’ll catch my cold,” Harry murmurs, preventing him from kissing, “Also, what, this turns you on?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, pecking his lips, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Harry huffs out a laugh under his breath yet feeling heat rising up his cheeks. Zayn goes into the Common Room to get something and when he comes back, Harry finds himself underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

“Stay right behind me and don’t sneeze.”

“You're violating the rules. Aren’t you supposed to be the prefect?” Harry shakes his head at Zayn’s plan to smuggle him inside the Slytherin Common Room. It’s ridiculous, really.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quiet?” Zayn deadpans, looking too smug with his reply.

Carefully, they walk down the Slytherin corridors. Lots of other students already coming out of it for dinner. Harry’s thankful for Zayn’s jumper because it is cold as fuck down here. He wonders why Slytherins have to live in dungeons. But makes no effort into stopping Zayn because it’s kind of sweet that he doesn’t want Harry to be alone and sick tonight.

“Imperium,” Zayn says the password. And the brick wall slides easily.

Harry thinks the password suits Slytherin. If he’s correct, it’s the latin word for power. And Zayn was an epitome of it. He had so much ambition and power. So much so that he was made prefect of the house after Luke was expelled. Harry sees Zayn being nervous as he steps forward. His own breath caught in his throat too when he goes inside. And nothing happens. He got in. Zayn looks over his shoulder in relief even though he can’t see Harry.

A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in carved chairs. The Common Room was decadent, green and silver. While Harry was busy looking around, he realized he had completely missed Zayn, who was already climbing the stairs nearby. He makes sure not to run into anyone and quickly falls into step, briefly bumping into Zayn who looks over his shoulder, mortified.

There are rooms in the dungeons, adjacent to the Common Room but Zayn’s was up the stairs. The Slytherin tower was one of the coolest places Harry had seen. Zayn looks like he belongs there too. Suave, confident, only stops for a beat to give Aiden a side hug with a grin. Thankfully, they walk into a corridor of doors. The last one, being Zayn’s.

And his room is not a dungeon, by any means. No, it’s beautiful. Just like Zayn. It’s a lavish single room. Harry feels a creep of jealousy thinking back at the room he shares with Niall. Zayn has a slightly larger single bed, a green silken cloth draped on four bedposts. He has a desk in here, a very ornate golden mirror, a closet and a wonderful window that overlooked the Castle furthering up to the Forbidden Forest.

“I can’t believe this worked,” Harry said, the Invisibility Cloak falling off his shoulders as he looks out the window.

“You doubted my plans?” Zayn feigns offense before coming back with a glass bottle. He props himself up on the bed. 

“C’mere, you can sit on my lap,” when Harry walks to his bed, Zayn just pulls him on his lap. Harry sort of falls on him, hands on his shoulders but Zayn steadies him with a chuckle. He hands Harry some pills for his cold but after downing it with some water, Harry’s face scrunches up in disgust.

“Dragon urine one of the ingredients?”

“Don’t waste what’s left of your voice on complaints about meds you can’t even taste, babe,” Zayn teases.

Harry lets out a low whine, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck and presses a kiss to his check in gratitude. Zayn turns his head and catches his lips in another kiss. Harry puts his hand under Zayn’s jaw, tilting his face up so, he can kiss him better. One of the things Harry has come to realize is that he never quite wants to stop kissing Zayn.

So, before he can pull away, Zayn’s hands are already on his butt, helping him face Zayn in a way that he’s straddling the raven haired boy’s hips. Which gives him all the more chance to rub against Zayn’s crotch. He hears a low moan escape from the other lad and soon, finds a set of hands on his hips, pushing him down on the bed against his back.

Zayn’s on top of him now, nosing as his jaw to tilt Harry’s head, exposing his neck.

“They should make me a saint for this because you have no idea how much I want you,” Zayn murmurs, nipping at Harry’s neck, “But you’re burning up, babe.”

“I feel fine, can’t you still-“ Harry squirms underneath him, a puddle of soft whimpers as Zayn keeps sucking on a spot on his neck. He pulls away with a satisfied smirk and Harry doesn’t even have to look twice to know there’s a pinkish red bruise left behind.

“Believe me, I want to,” he steals a kiss from Harry’s lips, the corner of his lips quirking up, “But I can tell you’re sicker than you let on.”

And that’s not actually wrong. Harry felt like his back was killing him, he had body aches and he was shivering. So, with a sigh, he concurred. Even with him protesting, Zayn took off his shoes and got him some socks and tucked him into the bed. Once changed into a pair of sweats and a loose tank, Zayn slid under the covers too.

Harry had stayed on the other side of the bed, mainly to not get him sick, but Zayn just rolled his eyes at him and pulled him closer.

“Don’t you have any healing charms for your cold?” Zayn’s face settles into a comfortable smile as they both lean on their sides and face each other, legs tangled.

“If there was, I’d have already used it,” Harry snorts, shaking his head.

“How did you defeat a curse but can’t get rid of a cold?” Zayn scrunched up his nose in confusion, both of them chuckling at the thought. Then he looks at Harry with a very fond look.

“What?”

“You care about me a lot, don’t you?” the cadence of Zayn’s voice is playful with a hint of sincerity.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry lies, beaming a dimpled smile.

“Yeah, you do,” Zayn wraps his arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him to his chest with a bigger smile, “You told me about how healing charms work off of how much you care to heal.”

Harry feels heat rise up his cheeks again and he plants his hand on Zayn’s mouth, unable to hold back his smile, “Shut up.”

Zayn shakes his head, playfully swatting his hand away. After the laughter and playfulness has died down, Zayn’s eyes reflect a painful glint. Harry decides that he doesn’t like it one bit.

“What are you thinking about, Z?”

“Just- why I was raised to look down upon muggleborns,” his voice is low, like he’s asking a question he’s not supposed to, “My parents don’t really care about that stuff but some of my family has. This assumption that blood decides magic. It’s kinda stupid, innit?”

He never really thought about it so elaborately because majority of the people don’t care about it now, save one or two. And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t suck to have some of Zayn’s family look down on him.

“Don’t look that worried, babe,” Zayn nudges him with a half smile, “They’re not the side of family we like to see either. But you should know that I’m still sorry and I’ll make it up to you. Even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

Harry knocks Zayn’s foot with his own. He knows this topic went unaddressed the last time and it doesn’t make it any less awkward. What is one supposed to say in moments like these? Of course, he had felt bad about it but Zayn’s proved him otherwise with his actions. Done more than he could’ve. Risked his life for Harry’s.

And Harry adores him for it. He knows it’s wrong to compare him with Liam, he could never. It’s like apples and oranges.

Liam, though, has never pushed him beyond his comfort zones, he has always made sure Harry was doing his best as a muggle with magic and that was good enough. He’d worry so much about little things like, he absolutely had to protect Harry from everything. But he can’t. No one can. And Zayn had taught him to fend for himself.

_Isn’t that what love is? To teach someone to live without them and not be too dependent?_

At least for Harry, it is. It all came down to what he felt. With Liam, he was a muggle with magic. With Zayn, he felt like a wizard.

And he loves Liam no less, thanks his stars for having someone who would care for him so much. But Zayn with his crazy schemes and obsession with being the best, his funniest jokes even when he’s not trying to be funny, his challenges— Harry loves him for it. Truly. Sees why they work out the way they did. 

_And it was always Zayn, wasn’t it? With all his virtues and vices and complexities_.

“I forgive you,” Harry whispers then pokes him in the stomach to dissipate the much obvious tension in the air. Zayn lets out a laugh, tightening his arms around Harry and presses annoyingly wet kisses on his face while Harry tries to push him off, “Besides, it’s stupid to think I’d tolerate shit like that after what happened.”

“Zayn Malik is such a romantic. Who knew?” Harry replies with a teasing tone, to lighten up the mood.

“You do. And that’s the only thing that matters,” he takes Harry’s hand, pressing the back of it against his chest.

“Why? Couldn’t find anyone else to torture?”

Zayn laughs, beckoning him closer and pressing his lips against Harry’s, “Nah, I just chose you.”

And that night, they fall asleep together after laughing over conversations which poke fun at one another. With Harry’s curls in Zayn’s face while Harry’s face pressed up against Zayn’s collarbone. And it works, doesn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this fic so far, I've really loved each and every comment and kudos and bookmarks and appreciations. I think I'm gonna have one or two more chapters of Zarry. The fic's story has kind of ended and the coming chapters would just be moments between them. So, thank you so much. I hope you liked this one. (:


	9. the two of us are just young gods.

Harry makes his way to the Divination class room on the second floor. The class is almost empty because he's early, save a few seats. Cho Chang sitting with two of her friends, Dean Thomas occupying the front row seat and lastly, Zayn. If he didn't know any better, he'd even consider this a regular Friday. Except it's not. None of the days are regular anymore or at least, they don't feel like it now that he's with Zayn.

There's something new in the way even the most mundane things feel.

It's different but not really. Zayn still mocks him, keeps him on his toes but they also get away from the Castle one Tuesday evening and walk around Hogsmeade holding hands. It's the way he would find ways to learn more about Zayn. His sisters, his fears, how he likes his tea. Never quite understood why people would make a big deal about the person Zayn is. Harry thinks he's quite lovely and totally a heavy sleeper.

So, when Harry walks into that class, Zayn is busy scribbling something onto a notebook but takes his bag off the chair next to him. Even without looking up, Zayn knows he's here and wants Harry to sit next to him.

And if Harry can't help but press a soft kiss to Zayn's cheek after sitting down, it's no one's business.

"Sleep well?" Zayn's lips quirk up as he extends his left hand out for Harry to hold.

"Yeah, well rested," Harry murmurs, lacing their fingers together. They do this a lot; holding hands. Like it's their most favorite way of being with each other. And maybe it is.

"Yeah, 'cause it was my bed," he finally looks up at Harry with a smug look, tucking a curl behind his ear.

Harry chuckles, shaking his head, "Walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"You always do," Zayn's lips curl into an easy smile. He closes the notebook and pecks Harry on the lips.

"There's people around here, babe," Harry's cheeks flush a pale pink once he makes sure no one's looking. Zayn rolls his eyes and leans in to whisper in his ear, "So? Weren't this shy when I bent you over Snape's desk last week."

Harry just glares at him in return, his lips slightly puckering into a pout. That's not at all a fair example. They were making out after Defense against the Dark Arts class one day and things got a little handsy and it might've ended up Harry being in a very questionable position over Professor Snape's desk with Zayn who may or may not have been fucking him from behind.

"Didn't you also let me cum on your face? In this very class, I think?" Zayn barely makes an attempt to hold back his laughter after Harry just whines and nuzzles closer to him.

"Those are very inappropriate and unfair examples," Harry tries to accuse but his smile gives it away, "Also, you liked cumming on my face as far as I remember."

Zayn quirks up a brow, helplessly recollecting the incident. It was so hot to see Harry on his knees, working his lips on Zayn's dick. He had a fistful of chestnut curls, fucking Harry's mouth. And the way in which Harry had pulled away after Zayn was done but kept pumping his dick with his tongue out, having it drip on his lips, face and down his chin- Zayn stops himself right there before he bends Harry over this desk too.

"Of course, I did," Zayn says like it's the most obvious thing, letting his gaze take in Harry with his curls tamed behind a head band and pink, pink lips puckered out and Zayn shamelessly glances at them, mentally debating whether he should go in for another kiss. But then Harry quickly lets go of his hand once Niall comes in and sits beside him.

"We're sitting here today?" Niall asks Harry lowly, his blue eyes peering at Zayn.

Harry shifts in his seat, nodding with a small smile, "Is that okay?"

"Okay? We're hanging out with a Prefect, it's damn cool," he merely grins and pats Zayn in the back as hello, who smiles back politely.

The class soon starts to fill in with other students, a low buzz in the air. Professor Trelawney couldn't come in today so, it's a substitute class. They were free to carry on any other work they liked, provided the class didn't make too much of a noise.

Zayn was talking to Louis, who was sat beside him. They were discussing mindless ideas that Zayn had about their next Quidditch game then Louis was talking about how they should go somewhere this week but it was interrupted when he heard what Niall said.

"Is that a 'bloody hickey?" the Irish lad chuckles.

"A what, now?" Zayn shoots him a questioning look with a frown. Harry's eyes widen in surprise that Zayn had even heard it and shushes Niall by putting a hand on his face and shakes his head with a feign smile, "Nothing, Z."

"Harry's got a hickey on his neck and he won't admit it."

"I hurt myself with the edge of a book," Harry slowly drawls, hiding the spot on his neck from Niall and evidently making up the excuse on the spot, "Zayn was there, he knows."

Zayn searches Harry's eyes with furrowed brows, his face contorting in confusion before he understands. He hums, hooking his foot with the leg of Harry's chair and sliding his chair closer to Zayn's with a swift pull, tilting his neck up.

His lips turn into a smirk as his thumb lightly grazes over the spot and he remembers the way Harry had moaned his name when Zayn gave it to him, "Yeah, that's right. This is too faded to be a hickey, mate."

"Maybe Gryffindor here isn't getting laid enough," Louis chimes from beside Zayn, with a teasing smile.

Zayn snorts, "Believe me, he is."

He freezes when he realized what he just said with Niall and Louis looking at him curiously. He clears his throat and pulls his hand away from Harry, "I mean- you know, he must be. I don't know."

Louis scoffs and bats his hand in the air like dismissing Zayn's assumption. He gets up from his chair and stands in front of their desk, arms crossed on the front of their desk, "You don't know that. And as his friends, I think we should help."

"Yeah, totally," Niall receives a glare from Harry when he agrees.

Louis' grin widens as he mulls over it, looking around the class, "How about Daisy Lowe?"

"Nah, she dated a mate of ours," Niall is quick to shoot it down, "Why don't you set him up with someone new? Maybe a Slytherin."

"How about no?" Zayn tells a little loudly this time. Harry shifts in his seat again, feeling fidgety about this whole thing. He places a hand on Zayn's knee, rubbing soothing circles around it. It seems to work because Zayn leans back into his chair and rolls his eyes when Louis looks at him with suspicion.

"This is hardly even necessary, Louis," Harry replies, smacking Niall on the arm playfully.

"Don't be a bore, Styles," Louis hushes him, "Live a little. Besides, I think I already know someone who would be perfect for you."

At that, Harry looks at Zayn. _He is kind of perfect for me, isn't he?_

Zayn lets go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. There's something about the way Harry looks at him, all fond and stuff. It calms him down, almost. And Harry does that a lot. The past few weeks of being with him have been better than Zayn could ever imagine. It was easy, for once.

He's rarely ever had anyone like Harry. Who understood him and didn't mock him for succumbing to the pressure, sometimes. Who had held his trembling hands tighter to steady them. And there's nothing in the world they haven't talked about. He has heard so many stories about the muggle world and shared some of his, when they'd lie awake as a tangled mess in Zayn's bed—talking and kissing. Trading memory after memory, a story for a story.

Doesn't quite remember the last time someone wanted him like Harry does-- intentionally, hopelessly and perhaps forever.

Maybe, it was the easiest decision in the world; to love Harry. Someone who cared for him and helped him grow. And Harry wasn't afraid to call him out on his shit which might be a first because he doesn't remember the last time Gigi ever disagreed with him. Always having him around in a crowded room like he's being put on display. And don't even get him started on the attention she gave him when he was made Prefect.

"You okay?" Harry leans in and whispers lowly, his hand gently settling on Zayn's.

Zayn uses his thumb to trace over Harry's knuckles, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I love you," Harry murmurs with one of the softest smiles and Zayn can't help but feel his chest swell up in pride. He mouths it back, earning an even bigger smile. And fuck, if Zayn isn't already gone for this guy. Harry with his gentlest touches, softest lips and a steadying hand. For Harry, he was always just Zayn and not Zayn Malik. From the very first night they met.

"Zayn, switch seats with Grimmy," Louis' voice interjects his thoughts. His jaw tightens when he sees Nick Grimshaw in tow, standing sheepishly beside Louis.

"No," he deadpans, inhaling a sharp breath.

Louis narrows his eyes at him but doesn't say anything. Instead he's got Niall to jump on this stupid idea so, of course, now Harry is sandwiched between Zayn and Nick.

"Move closer to him, mate. It isn't helping that you're practically in Zayn's lap," Niall whispers, grinning suggestively.

He literally growls at Nick who not only goes along with it but tries to be extra nice. Zayn can see through it though, it isn't new for him to recognize when his friends are trying to pull. It just makes Zayn's blood boil that he's trying to pull Harry.

"Louis? A word," Zayn sternly demands, pulling on his arm to talk to him at the back of the class.

"What are you throwing a strop about?"

"What am I- get Nick away," he scoffs, running his fingers through his hair, "Harry's clearly uncomfortable."

"Nick is a good guy, Zayn. Honestly, you're starting to sound like a _jealous boyfriend_ , "Louis' eyes light up with an unmistaken flicker of mischief. Niall comes up behind them, hooking an arm over Louis' shoulder.

"We know, Zayn. Just give in and admit it," Niall laughs, his head nearly thrown back.

"How the fuck did you—"

"Because we're not blind. You spend so much time with Gryffindor over there, it's insane," Louis tells him, looking way too smug.

"Or, Louis saw Harry and you sleeping together in your room last week," Niall gets a light punch to his gut from Louis for stepping over his stupid dialogue.

"Why were you even in my room?" Zayn looks exasperated and flushed now.

"I lost my tie, you had an extra one. When I went to get it, I saw curly in bed with you," Zayn hates the shit eating grin Louis beams at him as all three of them walk back to Harry who looks like he's trying to humor Nick and be polite as much as he can, "But then, I think to myself that maybe you're just shagging him. But you never let anyone sleep over, let alone hold them. You should've seen them, Niall. He keeps a picture of Harry on his nightstand."

"Alright, that's enough," Zayn interrupts him, turning possibly all shades of red if he could. The picture was one of his best memories. Harry had his arms around Zayn's neck, kissing his cheeks and then his lips, both of them laughing. Zayn had taken them to go shopping for Waliyah's books.

"Sounds serious," Niall chuckles, lounging his hands on Harry's shoulders once they make their way back.

"I know. Some nerve to hide it from us," Louis glances at Zayn accusatorily, poking him in the chest.

"We weren't exactly hiding it. We were going to tell you once things were going okay," Zayn explains, sighing in frustration.

"Nick, go away," Louis shoos him and Harry frowns looking at them, "Your boyfriend needs to learn to lock his door."

The class was over five minutes ago and it was almost emptying. Nick left in confusion, probably not aware of Louis' stupid schemes. Zayn sits next to Harry and lays his head on Harry's shoulder, groaning, "They're mean to me, babe."

Harry surprisingly doesn't seem taken aback at the fact that their friends know. He drapes an arm over Zayn's shoulder, supporting his frame, "I'm sorry, this wasn't supposed to go on for this long. Just, couldn't find the moment to say it, y'know?"

"Liam explained it to us that it might not have been easy to come clean but—"

"Liam knows?" Harry asks, pulling Zayn closer, who only huffs in turn. Probably sulking about the fact that he was the collateral damage of his stupid prank and they literally had it play out for so long until Zayn finally snapped. All this could've been avoided with one sentence but no, Louis will scheme his way through life. It's actually kind of genius but Zayn wouldn't admit it as of now.

"Yeah, he told us not to pull shit like this and said something about letting you guys get ready to tell us but this was way more fun. We couldn't help it," Niall shrugs, his grin matching Louis'.

"I still can't picture it, honestly," Louis leans on his hands, flat on the desk and goes on in a teasing tone, "What did you even see in Zayn?"

"He's really nice and the sex is mediocre but honestly, I did it to take one for the team," Harry quips with a dimpled grin of his own.

Zayn lifts his head up from Harry's shoulder, clearly going to hit Louis in the balls or something.

Louis shrieks and shies behind Niall, "You're supposed to be my best friend," then he looks at Harry with a bewildered gaze, "The sex part, I wanna come back to later on," and pushes Niall playfully, "And you don't hang out with Louis, he's bad influence."

The three of them crack into laughter, except Zayn who just rolls his eyes at them. Turns out, later on during dinner, they speak to Liam as well who is all smiles and looks genuinely happy for Harry. Sophia joins them this time after Zayn leaves and Harry can't help but feel happy for Liam too. He looks at ease, comfortable and delighted to joke around with Sophia. Maybe things did work out pretty well. After dinner though, Harry bids them goodnight and lets Niall know he'll be with Zayn tonight, in reply to which he gets a wolf whistle from the Irish lad.

Moments later, Harry opens the door to Zayn's room, peering inside.

Zayn is sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard, reading a book. A pool of duvet at his lap. When Harry sheds of the Invisibility Cloak, Zayn beckons him closer.

"Took you long enough," Zayn whispers against Harry's lips, pulling him by his wrist to deepen the kiss.

"Sorry, dinner took time," he murmurs back with a slight smile, going in to hug Zayn.

"Tonight, you're sleeping here, yeah? Barely saw you this week."

"You have classes with me every other day," Harry laughs as Zayn puts his book away and helps him on his lap. He's facing Zayn now, straddling the lad and Harry's hands on either sides of his face.

"Not the same, babe," Zayn grins, leaning back against the headboard and runs his hands against the expanse of Harry's legs, "Louis dropped something off for us."

Harry scrunches his brows questioningly, following Zayn's gaze to his nightstand. There's a square box wrapped in a decadent looking dark brown paper with a red ribbon pasted on top. There's a note which says 'Courtesy of Louis Tomlinson to Z and H' with a winky face.

Zayn nods at him to open it and they both have a laugh at the box of chocolate covered strawberries.

"You're actually going to have them?"

"Yeah, why not?" Harry beams at Zayn, opening the box and taking a bite out of a strawberry and offering the rest to Zayn. Zayn grabs Harry's hand and takes a bite too, his gaze following Harry's tongue which licks the excess chocolate off his fingers.

Maybe it was Louis Tomlinson's one of many schemes or whatever the fuck but Zayn feels lightheaded the way Harry's mouth looks to be sucking on the strawberries as he tells him about his day. Zayn's only half listening because his mind has stopped working. His fingers dip in the soft chocolate and brings it closer to Harry's lips. For a second, Zayn smears it against his lips but then Harry is licking it off his fingers and Zayn swallows.

He sits up, hands on Harry's hips as he kisses him. Gentle and soft at first and Harry just seems to melt against him, gliding his lips against Zayn's with his hands tangled in Zayn's raven hair. Harry lets out the sweetest sound when Zayn licks into his mouth, tasting the chocolate on Harry's tongue. His hands on Harry's arse, grabbing a handful and squeezing as Harry rolls his hips to brush their crotches together. Suddenly, what separates them and breaks the kiss is a knock at the door.

Harry looks flushed, his curls hanging loose and his lips all red and puffy from when Zayn was tugging on them with his teeth. He breathes shakily, looking down at Zayn's lap. Harry presses a kiss to his lips again, palming at the tenting of Zayn's sweats. He groans when there's another knock.

"Stay right here and don't you dare touch yourself," Zayn whispers and answers the door after adjusting his sweats. Aiden's at the door and talking about Merlin knows what so, Harry lays down on the bed on his back. He can smell Zayn's peppermint shampoo on the pillows and the green silky sheets and it's so, so Zayn. He can't help but touch himself down there.

Zayn clears his throat and glares at Harry as a warning whilst conversing away with Aiden.

When Harry hears the door shut, he shamelessly lets out a whine. Zayn stands at the foot of the bed, his gaze raking up and down on Harry's body, "I told you to behave, didn't I?" He wraps his fingers around Harry's ankles, pulling him down swiftly by his legs. Zayn works his fingers on the buttons of Harry's jeans and unzips them.

Harry helplessly watches Zayn get him out of his tight jeans. His dick pulsates at the thought of how Zayn looks like he's going to devour him any second. Fuck. But he immediate stops Zayn when he reaches for Harry's shirt, "Don't rip it, you ripped like two of my shirts."

Zayn laughs, shaking his head and climbs on the bed, getting on top of him, "Fine, I won't rip your clothes, babe."

Harry pulls him into another kiss, smiling into it. It's his turn now, to get Zayn naked already. The shirt's easy to take off, revealing the body ink across Zayn's torso. Harry runs his hand over Zayn's chest, lips ghosting over his neck and collarbone. They flip over with Harry on top now and he leaves soft kisses down Zayn's chest, almost as if trying to memorize every inch of his tanned skin with his lips.

He uses his teeth to pull down Zayn's boxers after discarding his sweat pants. The tip of Zayn's dick hits him in the lips and he's so hard. Zayn quickly reaches for his wand at his night stand, casting a spell to make the room sound proof, his chest rising and falling when Harry licks a stripe from the base to his tip. He watches with hooded eyes as Harry pumps his dick, leaving soft kisses against the shaft.

It always drove Zayn crazy as how good Harry is at sucking his dick. His cheeks hollowed out as he bobs his head up and down, eliciting faint moans from Zayn. He looks good. With Zayn's dick in his mouth, eyes closed and lips wrapped around it as he's sucking—and now, deep throating, "Fuck, Haz. So filthy."

Harry seems to respond to the praise, moaning around Zayn's dick and it almost makes Zayn come immediately on the spot, "Babe, fuck, stop. Get on your hands and knees for me."

He is quick to obey, getting on his fours and Zayn curses under his breath at how sinful it looks. Harry's face down with his arse up in the air and his back arching as he feels Zayn lube his entrance slick. He's a moaning mess when Zayn fingers him open slowly, at first then even Harry seems to grow impatient and fucks himself on Zayn's fingers.

"Need you, Zayn," Harry lets out another throaty moan and he's so glad for casting that sound proof spell because fuck, if anyone could Harry, they'd lose their minds at how fucking filthy it all is.

"Yeah, babe?" Zayn pumps his dick a couple times, his gaze landing on Harry's cheeks as he spreads him wide open and positions himself behind Harry.

Harry grips the pillow harder once Zayn enters him, a strained moan escaping his lips. After a few lazy thrusts, he seems to adjust to it and Zayn picks up the speed.

Zayn's gripping his hips, thrusting fast and hard enough for Harry to moan _Zayn Zayn Zayn, fuck, fuck_ in quick successions.

"Babe, you're so tight," Zayn tilts Harry's hips which enables him to go deeper and it elicits a loud moan, "Maybe I am not fucking you _enough_ , huh?"

Harry's face in buried into the pillow, "Fuck, right there, Zayn. Harder," he arches his back again, face scrunched up as he moans a slew of curses along with Zayn's name. He doesn't move, _can't move_ because it feels so fucking good to have Zayn behind him, the tip of his dick brushing against Harry's bundle of nerves in every thrust. His throat feels dry, tears welling up at the level of pleasure.

Zayn follows Harry's gaze at the golden mirror at the other side of the room and loses his mind at what he sees, "Look at you, Haz. All on fours for me, getting your fucking mediocre sex, yeah?" He thrusts harder at that, smacking his arse and Harry nearly lets out a scream, now clutching the headboard, "You like watching yourself get fucked by your boyfriend? Like having my dick up your arse?"

Harry wipes his tears and looks back at the mirror, he can see Zayn's tattoos and how he's fucking Harry from behind, the faster he goes, the louder the clapping noise, "Fuck, yeah Zayn. 'M so close—"

Zayn pulls away at that, leaving Harry feeling empty and he groans, "Zayn, don't stop."

This earns him another smack to his arse, he hisses at how good it felt.

"Lay on your back, babe."

He gets fucked with his legs on Zayn's shoulders, fisting the sheets. His voice sounds broken and hoarse and he reaches for Zayn. The raven haired lad lowers Harry's legs and fits himself between them, getting on top of Harry again. He kisses Harry's cheek, lets Harry grab his face and glide his thumb over Zayn's cheekbone.

Even though they've been quite rough in bed in the beginning, Zayn always treats him so gently whenever Harry reaches out for him. Even out of bed. _Especially_ out of bed. Even though they joke around, Zayn is so, so gentle with him. And Harry can't help but return the favor. 

"You look so fucked out, I love it," Zayn whispers, glancing into Harry's green eyes with a fond smile and leaving numerous kisses on his lips and cheeks, "I love you. So beautiful, babe. So good for me. "

Harry places his hands on Zayn's shoulder, pecking his lips quickly with a blissful smile of his own, the bed making a screeching sound off late and nuzzles his face into Zayn's neck, whispering an I love you too.

"You wanna come?"

Harry nods desperately, tightening his arms around Zayn's neck when they kiss again and if it's even possible, Zayn thrusts into him faster and harder than before, rolling his hips and fucking Harry so hard that the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Zayn puts his hand on Harry's dick, getting him off, "Come for me, babe."

And with a few more moans, Harry releases all over his hand. Zayn fucks him through the orgasm before releasing inside Harry as well. Neither of them want to move after laying on their backs beside each other, chests heaving.

"Did I hurt you, babe?"

Harry shakes his head and winces in pain as he turns to his side to face Zayn, "M' fine, just sore."

Zayn raises his brow at him, casting a cleaning spell which gets rid of all the come. After they've caught their breaths, Zayn wraps an arm around Harry's waist, pulling him closer. He seems exhausted but not sleepy.

"I don't wanna hide anymore," comes a whisper from Harry, low enough to dissipate in the quietness of the room.

Zayn hums, pressing his lips against the boy's temple, "You sure? People might say stuff."

"Don't care," the tips of Harry's lips quirk up when he pulls his face from Zayn's neck, "I think it'll be good, yeah? You don't have to be jealous anymore."

Zayn scoffs, rolling his eyes, "You're calling that jealousy? Believe me, if you can still use your legs, I'm not being jealous."

Harry presses soothing kisses to his jawline with a soft smile, "Yeah, alright. You've established your point. We have the best sex, now can I please call you my boyfriend in public?"

"You don't even have to ask," Zayn murmurs with a lazy smile of his own, adjusting the necklace he gave Harry which was a cool silver one that he had spotted in a gift shop and it had a small 'Z' on it. Harry had loved it so much, made it a point to wear it and obviously, it made Zayn's heart explode with how much he's in love with Harry.

So, the next day at breakfast in a hall packed with people, Harry is having breakfast with Niall and Liam at the Gryffindor table. Liam nudges him suggestively, "Someone's here for you, Haz."

And he finds a shy looking Zayn standing near the windows, a few feet away from his table.

"Morning, babe," Harry says with a fond smile and Zayn chuckles before grabbing his face and pressing their lips together. Harry swears he hears a few whispers and gasps in the background but chooses to ignore it.

"Morning, wanted to see you before heading to class," Zayn murmurs with a smirk, enveloping him into a hug. Harry can feel quite a few eyes on them but he is least bothered now. Being with Zayn always made it easier to somehow, tune other people out. Somehow, Zayn feels the same way. Unable to take his eyes off of Harry.

"Charms class? Try not to embarrass me when you cast the spells I taught you."

"Shut the fuck up, Haz," Zayn laughs, lightly hitting him on his arm as he turned around to leave with Louis but Harry grabs his arm and pulled him into another unexpected kiss.

"Can't boss him around now, can you Zayn?" Dean Thomas cheers from his seat, prompting Zayn to glare at him, "The fuck you say to me?"

"Try not to beat him up, babe," Harry chuckles, pecking Zayn's lips which causes another round of cheering and whispering among the students present at the Great Hall. 

Zayn scrunches his face, unable to stifle his laugh, "But if I do, you'll heal my cuts and bruises?"

"Always," Harry whispers easily with a dimpled smile, his hand fitting perfectly with Zayn's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! (: 
> 
> Thank you so, so, so much for everyone who read this, liked this, left kudos, commented, appreciated and came back to it update after update. This fic is my pride and joy haha, it's the first fic I've gotten myself to write from start to finish. Sometimes it was easy to write and somedays, I thought of deleting it but now, it has been so worth it. I just wanted to contribute to the fandom and have a fic of mine on ao3. I think I might write another fic soon, perhaps next month. Writing's kinda addictive haha. Thank you for reading this far, means a lot. Hope you like this one. (:


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